


Voice of Strife

by Iunara



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alduin as overlooming threat, Civil War, Dragon soul absorption hurts, Eventual Romance, F/M, Identity Searching, Intrigue, On the Run, Quest to defeat Alduin, Skyrim - Freeform, Some attempt at politics, Summerset Isles, Thalmor are not stupid, dragons all over Tamriel, extreme violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 162,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8161747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iunara/pseuds/Iunara
Summary: Three years she spent running from her "sacred" duty. As the wheel slowly turned upon her, the last Dragonborn, she finds there is nowhere to run to.This story was inspired by the "Diplomatic immunity quest" when  I was sneaking around and overheard a few Thalmor soldiers talking about how they were worried about the dragon threat and with the Dossier about the dragons seemed to confirm that the Thalmor had no idea either.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> When I was thinking of this story a while back (three years kinda, college tends to intervene with those plans) it somewhat occurred to me that the dragons would never ever stick to Skyrim and mostly likely spread to the other provinces. Therefore people will be desperate in a sense about this threat. Now the Thalmor, as much as many dislike them, you have to give them that they are efficient and do not tolerate anything which would threaten their power. Dragons could definitely weaken them enough so they would lose their hold on the Empire and others. And with three years they could have gathered enough information to know "there is a Dragonborn. There is this prophecy." And think "If we had someone that powerful on our side, our power would be uncontested." Hence they sent out spies to track her down which would be difficult with the civil war going on and Ayera mostly operating in the underground for quite some time. Therefore there is the misinformation that Ayera is an acquaintance of the Dragonborn and not the Dragonborn herself. An agent sent by the Dominion might be desperate enough to go to an acquaintance and "persuade" her in the Thalmor way to co-operate.

It was widely recognized that once something was set in motion it tends to stay in motion and only an external force can stop it. Many scholars from High Rock and Sumerset Isle had tested and found that this was a rather accurate assumption when talking about motion and forces. It even applied to magic in the sense that magika only returned when not touched and when a spell was summoned it was the external force reducing it. Everyone fell under the law, Kings, Queens, Merchants, Jarls and even the dragons with that including the Dragonborn. So far she had avoided fulfilling her destiny with all her might, the forces of fate weren’t strong enough for what she could do to steer against it.

She should have known the more she would push the greater the backlash would be. And Divines, what one it was.

For three years she had avoided dealing directly or effectively against dragons.

It all started when Ayera woke up on a cart on the way to Helgen to be executed for unknown reasons other than that she was innocent of the charges by the Imperials which the ever so kind Hadvar had pointed out. Not that it had helped much, the Captain, who she sincerely hoped died later in the inferno, ordered her to be the second to be executed. The rest was a blur lines and fire until it all cleared up when she stumbled into a keep with Hadvar right behind her muttering something about dragons.  
Fighting her way out had been less of a problem, looked like she had some kind of martial training in daggers and magic before losing her memory. These instincts saved her skin in Bleaks fall barrow from being another skeleton in the corner.

Just as she was about to settle down with her new life and getting adjusted with no memories, she was revealed as the fabled Dragonborn. An old Nordic hero legend who slays dragons and absorbs their souls which she did and understood the meaning of “Fus”. The guards nearly bowed to her on the field with her trying to figure out what was going on after having used a shout by accident. The understanding had just been there.

That was when she decided to run to the Greybeards as soon as she could. The experience has been slightly disappointing but she proved herself nonetheless by retrieving the Horn of Jurgen Windcaller. The blades had been more to Ayera’s taste. Battle hardened warriors with a more pragmatic view on the world and an equal hatred towards the Thalmor.  
There is one curious similarity between the Thalmor and the Stormcloaks, she both hated them. Whereas the Thalmor interestingly enough left her on her own as she was half-high elf and half Breton, the Stormcloaks took her involvement in the civil war for granted. She remembered the first time she stood before Ulfric talking to his steward about a bounty she had collected. After the conversation she had left Windhelm fuming and vowing to never help any side on the war. She had seen his disappointment in her being half elf and using “filthy tricks” to fight, called her even an imposter at the height of their argument. In hindsight punching him and breaking his nose wasn’t the best decision in the long run but it felt so good even when chased out of Windhelm by a mob of angry Stormcloaks.  
Since then she had avoided Stormcloak occupied territory unless it was for a job which tended to happen fairly often. Usually dying her hair and a hood did the trick in making her look more Breton than elf. Just the eyes were not disguisable. Elven eyes but with bright blue irises. If someone didn’t recognize the form it could have passed off as rather large Nord eyes but alas with people being more agitated by the Thalmor this excuse didn’t stand a chance. Mostly, some just didn’t seem to care or just didn’t notice.

Quite ironically it was the hatred of a man who seeked to destroy her caused her to set out to fulfill her prophesied purpose.

She was on her way back to the Dark Brotherhood Sanctuary after a successful contract in Windhelm and that was unfortunately in Dawnstar when a small rustling made her stop in her tracks. Her ears shifted slightly as she concentrated on the sound in the nearby bushes. Usually she avoided the main road, but since her disguise of black hair hasn’t been washed off she had deemed it relatively safe to travel via road and not through the frozen land with the occasional frost trolls. The rustling didn’t occur again and Ayera thought it was just a small critter but laid a cautious hand on her daedric dagger nonetheless and started to summon her magika into a lightning spell, the familiar quiet crackling soothing her agitated nerves. Paranoia had saved her life countless times, especially when the first assassination attempt on the “Emperor” went smoothly, too smoothly. If she hadn’t been prepared she would be a smoldering corpse on that bridge.

She took a few more deliberate steps and pretended to relax visibly by slouching her shoulders and walking faster. Beneath her leather armor of the Thieves guild she tensed her muscles and strained her ears for the tell-tale sound of bow strings being drawn. Sure enough there was this slight creaking of wood being stretched backwards. There was someone ambushing her. Probably some amateur bandits trying to rob her of her coin which she must admit wasn’t little. But he had been noticed.

She heard the arrow being released before it actually happened and dove for the boulders next to the road making the arrows flew past her without hitting her. Taking cover she looked around and saw blue cloaks emerging from the group of tress and charge towards her. Not ordinary bandits but Stormcloaks with war hammers. Ayera counted five of them charging towards her. Out of instinct and experience she blasted the first with the lightning spell directly into the chest. The soldier was thrown back and rammed into another behind him, falling to the ground with a smoking hole in his armor and motionless. The other one was thrown backwards and landed on his skull first, a sickening crunch filling the air. Unfortunately, that didn’t deter the other three who were still on their feet from flying at her. Her options sped through her brain while observing the attackers. Fighting them with one dagger against four war hammers was near impossible and a bow would take too long and required a certain distance and calm. Another spell would only take one out, but if she used chain lightning…. It would only temporarily stun them as their armor would most likely absorb most of it due to some standard enchantments… If it wasn’t ironic that the group who hated magic nearly as much as the Thalmor using enchantments on their armor then Ayera would sell the Night Mother. Changing her concentration the different spell began charging and taking aim at the middle soldier she released it. She could see the muscles tensing up and the three of them fell down twitching.

Now she just had to run, Ayera jumped up and above the boulder and dashed into another group of trees while frantically looking for an invisibility potion in her pouch. The shouts of her pursuers became closer which made Ayera change direction out of panic. Suddenly her foot stepped on something soft and the ground underneath her gave out and the air rushed past her ears. Then she landed hard on her stomach groaning in pain. Turning around she saw walls of earth and a circular patch of sky above. She had fallen into a hunting pit and quite possibly injured her left leg as it started hurting like Oblivion.

By sheer luck her potion pouch seemed to be unharmed lying on her back. Sending a short thank you to Nocturnal the patron of thieves and their luck, she started rummaging in it again. Her pursuers’ shouts however got closer and sweat started dripping from her brow as her movements became more frantic. She was sure that her rapid heart-beat pounding in her ears had given her location away it was that loud to her.

Her fingers closed around a milky white bottle drawing it shakily out of the pouch. It would hold on for a few minutes and hopefully make them turn around. She uncorked the bottle with her teeth spitting the knob away and drank the first half of it. The familiar tingling feeling arose in her stomach and spread to her outer limbs which she saw vanishing in front of her eyes.

Not a moment too soon as the miniature face of a Stormcloak soldier peeked down the pit focusing on the dead deer on the ground. Not daring to make any sound, Ayera nearly stopped breathing but soon realized that she was too far away for them to hear her. They were Nords after all, resistant to the cold, but their hearing wasn’t sensitive.  
“She ain’t in here.”

“You oaf, she ran this way. Stupid elf probably fell into this pit.”  
“Are you blind? There is only a dead deer in there.”  
“She is an elf, probably threw a spell over herself.”  
“Yeah, if she had that sort of trick then she could certainly levitate herself out of there if she had fallen into it.”  
“Never heard of that spell.”

Ayera nearly bit her tongue to keep herself from laughing at their speculations of spells. Telekinesis might have helped but it required practice and patience and considering the height of the pit potentially a lot of her concentration and energy. Something she couldn’t really afford to try out now.

“Because you are a fucking dimwit!”  
“Says the guy who lost her out of his sight.”

She couldn’t see them but their shouting match indicated to her that they were indecisive about what to do next. The three of them were standing next to the pit arguing about whether she was down there or not.

Another voice chimed in saying: ”What do we tell Ulfric now? She slipped through our fingers killing two instantly?

Damn Ulfric to the Void. She shouldn’t be really surprised by this but his assassination attempts had been only confined to her encountering random troops. Not a targeted one. Next time she was in Windhelm, she will slit his throat and not give a damn about the hordes of guards like the last few times she was in the city in disguise as a normal Breton. Provided she got out of this pit first which looked like she had to wait for the damn hunter and pray for him being merciful.

“Damn elves, wouldn’t last long in honorable combat.”

She had to suppress a snort. What made magic so dishonourable? The companions had frowned when she had charged her lightning spell when they tested her abilities which she passed with two daggers but in the end she didn’t want to leave her trusty spells for solely dagger combat. She had joined the companions only to do some lowly jobs as some clearing caves of bandits and taking care of skeever infestations. Lydia and her had a great time doing that even if they had multiple bites sometimes requiring a trip to Arcadia. She missed Lydia right now and Shadowmere who she had left to roam the coast of Dawnstar to Winterhold.

A loud yell interrupted her musings and one of her pursuers landed next to her with a thunk. His face was cracked, angry forking red lines were strewn all over it. Lightning. No way could he have survived that. Though who would release a lightning spell at random Stormcloak soldiers? From the sounds above the soldiers were battling someone or something. Yelling and clashes of metal on metal were heard and the occasional distinct sound of spells being released. As sudden as the noise had appeared it was gone leaving behind eerie silence. Only the dead solider at her feet reminded her that it wasn’t just imagined. Looking up she saw a face peering down. She couldn’t distinguish its features from down there since the darkness of the pit made it impossible in contrast with the sun shining through the trees.

“I know you are down there, show yourself. A Thalmor agent has commanded you to.”

The hair on her neck stood up as soon as the stranger mentioned the Thalmor. First stormcloaks now a Thalmor? Today was her lucky day apparently... Oh Auriel and Sithis, how can she escape this new threat? Might be best to just remain completely still and not make a sound. Maybe he just assumed that someone was down there. That little hope was squashed as soon as the Thalmor agent opened his mouth again.

“I know you are down there, a detect life spell doesn’t lie.” Exasperation evident in the voice. As if on cue the tingling feeling began to recede from her head and toes appearing to normal vision again. She must make a truly pathetic picture to him, looking more Breton than elf he must think her inferior to him. She already expected a very condescending remark on that.  
“What are you doing down there?”

Even if she had wanted to her mouth seemed just glued shut out of surprise and the aftermath of a chase. He hadn't mocked her yet?  
“Are you mute?”

Ayera decided to just shake her head at this and observe her unlikely rescuer. She could see him looking at her intently and then lifted his hands which started to glow in a soft pale yellow she was familiar with. Before she could openly protest she felt herself being lifted up and hover towards the pit’s edges. The hood she had worn for the travel fell backwards. As soon as she reached it a hand clasped around her arm and lifted her rest of the way up. Now she could see the features, clearly high elf even though pale with a golden touch to his skin. As soon as her knees reached the edge she was dropped on it catching herself with her hands. A shadow covered her as she turned around to her rescuer.

He was bent over his arms on his knees catching for breath. The telekinesis spell must have drained him she thought absently. Probably has lifted less than her before.

The elf was clearly higher tier in the Thalmor ranks. By the looks of it a warrior judging by his armor, it looked like it was made of ebony, and the sword strapped to his belt. After a while his gaze snapped up to her, a rather intense green burned into her blue ones making her shiver. At that point the blockage on her mouth was gone and she blurted out: ”Thank you”, hastily.

His eyes softened to a degree and moved his hands to his helmet taking it off. A rather handsome face came to view with shoulder long black hair.

“What is a Breton doing here pursued by Stormcloak soldiers?”  
Rather direct too in his questions. Still in shock that a Thalmor agent had helped her she began talking.  
“I pissed of Ulfric and his pride has taken down a notch too much.”  
His facial expression went from guarded to amused.  
“And how did you accomplish such a feat? Ulfric is known to be more lenient towards humans than elves.”

At that Ayera hesitated. She wouldn’t trust him with the knowledge of her being a mixed race. No need for him to know. They would go their separate ways in a few moments anyways. Seeing the obvious hesitation he seemed to want to press further. But with a look at the position of the sun he deemed it not worth it for now. Looking down to the Breton he had just rescued he sighed.

“Look, I know there is something that you aren’t telling me and I have the feeling that it is something I should know. However, considering it is about to become night we both should start walking towards an inn.”

Ayera tensed at this. No way could she afford being near him any longer. One way or another he would suck all the information out of her by subtly placed questions. Delphine had warned her about those and that the Thalmor would not hesitate in killing her even if they were not behind the resurrection of dragons. Speaking of which Delphine was still in Sky Haven temple with Esbern waiting for her to kill Paarthurnax. Could wait until they were old and grey for all she cared. However, her little raid on the embassy hadn’t had some angry Thalmor agents running after her so she supposed that no one saw her and the ones who did were dead. Even with this, she couldn’t afford being stuck with him for one night. He was a Thalmor, for Talos’ sake.

“That is not necessary, my destination is not far from here fortunately.”  
He only raised an eyebrow at this.  
“So, you are heading to an old Nordic crypt?” He deadpanned her too quickly for her taste.  
“No, I was heading towards Fort Dunstad, the one the Imperials had captured from bandits.”  
At that the elf burst out laughing.  
“You do know that Fort Dunstad is too far away to reach by foot now? Night is approaching and I know the giants who camp here are more active during this time. There is an Inn nearby, I believe it is called Nightgate Inn, known not to ask too many questions.”

She had heard of this inn and quite frankly already devised a plan to leave him behind at the inn and double time it to Dawnstar before he knew she was gone. Now she would play along, he had a fast mind, she will admit that. Wordlessly she stood up only to fall side wards due to her forgetting about her injured leg. He whose name she hadn’t come to know bent over to look at it.  
“Doesn’t look broken to me, but I need more light to determine what it exactly is. Can you stand?”

He reached out a hand for her to grasp. Still hesitant Ayera reached out slowly with hers and took his hand and got pulled to her feet. His arm wound around her waist and she reached out with hers around his neck supporting herself on him.  
Only then she realized he stood at least a foot taller than her, having to bend to support her which made their walking rather awkward and slow.

“I have a horse waiting for us on the road so you can ride on him the rest of the way.”  
“I never knew that you high elves would help a Breton like me.”  
He snorted out of amusement.  
“Looks like you know nothing of Breton ancestry. Your race was created by altmeri and human inbreeding. In case you haven’t heard. High rock has opened new diplomatic routes to the dominion expanding their trade routes.”

Ayera bit her lip from remarking that it probably was a forced relationship but from what she had seen from the Breton’s she had encountered they seemed to like being two-faced. Belethor in Whiterun was a prime example and Hadvar commented on her fleeing a court intrigue from Daggerfall. Maybe she did but her memories from before still evaded her.

“You don’t have a high opinion on us do you”, was his flat remark when he saw her biting her lip.  
“As a matter of fact, no one likes you here.”  
“And why do you base your opinion on what others say? Not very smart of you.”  
“I…”  
“You don’t know even the reason? That’s dumb.”  
“Hang on. What I see is that you prosecute people and interrogate them cruelly.”  
“Oh I wasn’t aware that these procedures were public. How do you know?” The last part sounded more threatening and his grip on her tightened. Realising her little blunder and not wanting to confess to her raiding Northwatch Keep in freeing a Grey-mane member her gears started churning quickly.  
“You meet all sorts of people in inns. Some of them say they survived your interrogations.”

Mentally congratulating herself on this smooth save she looked up to him. His eyes were still narrow in suspicion and his grip hadn’t lessened either.  
“So you had only experience with us here in Skyrim?”  
“Yes.”  
“Were you raised here?”  
Now that was a question Ayera wasn’t sure whether she was able to answer with the truth or needed to lie. Not knowing her past would give him less leverage over her for sure. But not knowing her parents was sometimes maddening as she saw them in her dreams. A light room with two faceless individuals speaking in soft tones.

“Yes.”  
His confusion would have been funny if he hadn’t stopped so abruptly that she nearly fell out of his grasp on her face again.  
“Ahhh, so you have heard of the legendary Dragonborn then? The one who miraculously appeared three years ago.”  
“Three years?”  
“Dragons appeared three years ago alongside with the Dragonborn.”

If there was one thing Ayera could smell from afar was someone manipulating a conversation for gain for information. It was her line of work to do it.

She decided to play dumb for once, ”Dragonborn?”

“I believe that a dragonborn has the blood and soul of a dragon according to ancient lore recovered from the blade’s archives…”  
If he had felt her tensing up at this he didn’t react to it, he seemed more focused on remembering this.  
“He can absorb and learn their shouts. Rather remarkable ability don’t you think?”  
She nodded fast then furrowed her brow, usually a Thalmor would say it is classified such information. He just spoke it out to a stranger to him.  
“Wait… why are you telling me this? Isn’t this classified information to your people?”

A small toothy grin appeared on his face, a rather smug one at that. One of those which made her wish to punch him in the face.  
“You aren’t as stupid as I thought. Yes, I know you have information I need and I will get them. I didn’t rescue you out of the goodness of my heart even if I possessed one. Purely Thalmor business, nothing personal”, the smirk he threw her was utterly ugly.

She had known that he was a royal bastard and started squirming in his grip which had evidently tightened. If there was one thing she had learned in the thieves guild was getting out of tight grips against larger opponents. Worked wonders on guards. Her head connected with his nose and his yelp indicated to her that it worked and prepared herself to be dropped. What she couldn’t prepare herself for was him whirling her around and slamming her into a tree. Pressed between him and the tree she couldn’t see a way out and he had taken both her arms and twisted them behind her making her lean into his chest involuntarily. Then her head was forced up by another hand on her neck and he lowered his head whispering menacingly:  
“I am only going to say this once, you are only alive because you are useful to us. I would have killed you in the pit, that pathetic you were. You have information I need and I will extract them one way or another, am I clear?”

Ayera remained silent, still frozen in shock that he had her in a tight grip and was terrified. Nothing could have prepared her for this, though a more sarcastic part of her brain reminded her that Delphine had warned her and she had no one else to blame but her for being too trusting. Why would she never learn? Her musings were interrupted when he shook her head.

“Yes I understand”, was pressed between her teeth.  
“Good, you and I will go to Nightgate Inn. You are my lovely wife and we are on a journey to Falkreath. Understood?”

The way he emphasized the word “lovely” made her shudder especially when his cold ebony gauntlets stroked a part of her skin.

“Please, I don’t know what you think I know, but I have no access to court details of any hold!”

A dark laugh escaped him, baring his teeth in the process. He looked more like a predator toying with his prey.

“Is that what you think I want? That is not what I want to know. I heard the Inn is rather deserted with the war and I am sure no one would miss a Breton especially one who pissed of Ulfric.”

That bastard was enjoying himself she thought bitterly. Though what could she do? Her arms were restricted and running was impossible with her leg. Now she knew what some people meant by not trusting a stranger. She had walked right into the worst of them. By Sithis, her luck had run out this day.

He took her silence as acceptance as he released her arms which fell uselessly to her side while she still contemplated making a run for it. Her chances were low with her leg and then he might not show mercy the second time around. Then she felt the lightness of her belt, her dagger! Looking around frantically her eyes fell upon the familiar black-red blade dangling in front of her eyes. He had managed to steal it from her, a rather skilled thief she would have thought. Lulling her into a false sense of security and then exposing her in every single way possible, she hated that she had to admit he was cunning and especially a dangerous type of cunning.

“I knew you would think of using your dagger eventually. A particular curious blade don’t you think? Daedric correct with a lightning enchantment on it? How did a lowly Breton such as yourself get her hands onto such a powerful weapon? The art of smithing daedric weapons was what I thought a secret exclusive to the Isles.”  
“It was loot. Nordic crypt it was in a chest in the burial chamber.”  
“You managed to survive a Nordic crypt with such priceless treasure? I thought these crypts would have a decent challenge.”

A challenge? It was a brutal battle for survival which she nearly lost if Lydia hadn’t decided to take the blow for her and died slowly outside facing the blue sky surrounded by pine trees. A dragonpriest and Draugr Death Overlords. Ambushed in the final chamber. The dragonpriest’s mask was buried with Lydia’s body, hopefully never to be picked up again. All for a stupid Dragon Shout!

He jerked his hand on her neck again which forced her to focus on him again. After being sure she was with him again he leaned down so close that their noses almost touched.  
“We are going now and no more thoughts of running. I have no second thoughts about breaking your other leg as punishment.”

With that he hoisted her up and carried her over his shoulder. It was a rather uncomfortable affair since his ebony armor pressed into her stomach. Now Ayera wished profusely that she had worn her dragonscale armor maybe the daedric one just so she had been less vulnerable against him. No she had to go for the less conspicuous one so they didn’t have anything too memorable connected with the assassination.

The trek was silent, uncomfortable really. Her stomach roiled and bile rose up her throat and clung to her nose because of his stupid armor pressing into her stomach.

In her haste to escape the Stormcloaks she hadn’t entirely paid attention where she had run. Apparently down a hill and over a flat part of the forest. The road she had travelled on before wasn’t that far away however, since the small stone walls at its edge’s came into view shortly after starting to be carried. There was actually a black horse tied to a small tree growing further out into the road. She was thrown unceremoniously onto its back and before she could fall off or as she had hoped to do fall off and make a grab for her dagger a finger pressed between the soft junction between her neck and the base of the skull at the back of her head. Everything went black from there. Last thing she saw was him smirking smugly at her.


	2. Chapter 2

Her leg hurt. That was the first conscious thoughts after being knocked out that crossed her mind when she started to regain her consciousness. A steady pounding in the back of her head… Oh Sithis, her eyes shot wide open, the Thalmor agent, he was the one who knocked her out. A wood roof spanned over her with wind whistling through the cracks. At least it didn’t look like she was in a dungeon. They had been too far into Stormcloak territory to reach any imperial friendly inn. This must be Nightgate Inn. He hadn’t lied? 

This question was cut voice by a voice. “Awake now are we?” she turned her head to the side, her fingers curling around fur. She was lying on a small bed, on another one at the opposite side of the room sat the agent, sharpening a dagger. Where was the door? As soon as her eyes landed on the door opposite her, he laid down the dagger with a sigh.  
“Do not think about fleeing, I have no qualms breaking both of your legs”, her eyes snapped back to him on their own accord. Threats already, but he hadn’t bothered putting binds on her, or a gag for that matter. What did he want with her? Right, the Dragonborn. Somehow… she frowned, if she was still alive, then somehow he hadn’t made the connection that she was the Dragonborn? Otherwise she would be a corpse somewhere between Windhelm and Dawnstar. Might as well probe him about it. 

“Then ask away”, he leaned forwards, hands interlinked, elbows resting on his knees seeming to take his time with his response. Maybe she had startled him with her readiness?  
“As I have mentioned it before, you have information on the last Dragonborn. I need to know where she is.” So he did not know she was the Dragonborn. Good so far. At least he was blunt about what he wanted. 

“What would you want to know about her?”  
“Where I could find her.” No, out of question.  
“I…don’t know where she is”, she had to bite the inside of her cheek hard for the momentary hesitation. Hopefully he hadn’t detected the obvious lie. She couldn’t be sure whether she would be able to outrun or fight him to death. Not deep within Stormcloak territory, it would leave too much a trace of her identity. It might even tie her to the assassination job in Windhelm. Too risky.

He groaned, his shoulders slumping. “I had hoped you would have known.”  
She might have felt sympathy for him, if he had not forced her to be in this situation to begin with.  
“Even if I did know… why do you think I should tell you?”  
“So you do know?” He seemed hopeful. Her eyes narrowed on their own accord. The nerve of this mer.  
“I don’t”, she snapped. 

“By Auriel if you…” he snatched the dagger up from his nightstand and made a lunge towards her. She had no time to react, her head smashed against the wooden wall with a dull thud. An involuntarily gasp choked past her throat from the sharp pain spreading from the back of her head. Then the cold and sharp of his dagger was pressed against her throat, he was towering over her, knees on both sides of her hips. His left hand grabbed the upper part of her Thieves’ Guild armor and yanked her towards him, digging the blade deeper into her skin. Oh Sithis, what could she do? Blast him with lightning and risk being shocked herself?

“If you are withholding her whereabouts then Divines protect you!” he shook her now.  
“I already told you I didn’t know!” her hands were trying to push him away, but it only resulted in him pushing the blade dangerously close to one of her major veins.  
“You know something… and you are not sharing!”  
“Why should I?”  
“So you do know!”  
“Even if I knew, why should I tell a Thalmor?”  
“Go on.” She bit her upper lip. She needed to think.  
“On what grounds would I tell you about her location?”  
“None of your business.” He definitely wanted to find and kill the Dragonborn. But what would that mean for her? She had to talk fast now. 

“It is my business now since you dragged me to this inn, threatening me now…” she couldn’t continue, he snapped back.  
“It is official Thalmor business, none but them and the Dragonborn have any right know about it.” There it was, the flaw she had to pick apart.  
“And you expect me to just lead you to her without knowing if you mean her any harm or not?”

He pinched his lips, paused, and retreated his dagger. Her neck burned where the dagger had pressed though, her hand reached up to it on its own only to draw back to find drops of blood staining her finger tips. Swallowing hard she looked back up to the mer. What else was he prepared to do? He flinched away from her, jumping away from her bed and went to a bag at the end of his own, rummaging around. She sat up, pressing herself against the wall, as far as possible from him. He wouldn’t catch her off guard ever again. He was still looking in his pack. The door was past him, she could make a run for it… But then? It was still night, she would not be able to survive the cold North winds with the winter so close now, she would have no chance. She should have brought her cloak along for this mission, but no, she thought it would be a quick job and then back to Dawnstar before any major freezes happened. Nothing was ever easy.

He straightened out, snapping her back from any regrets she might have had, and stared at the strangely formed cloth bundle he held in his hands. Carefully he laid it down on the fur of her bed and back away. She was supposed to unwrap it? Gingerly she picked on a cloth corner and pulled. Her breath caught in her throat. That was a greenish shimmering dragonscale, a dragon whose soul hadn’t been absorbed yet. The smooth surface was thrumming underneath her fingertips, as an echo of its soul. 

“Where did you get this?” her voice sounded weak.  
“A dragon attacked Alinor, we felled it after a two week standoff.” She blinked. A dragon on the Summerset Isles? Since when? Lifting her head she could only stare at him. Dragons already in so far into Tamriel? Oh no…  
“How many?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“How many died?” his gaze softened a bit.  
“Too many… We stopped counting after we reached the hundred mark. It attacked during a market day, many people in a confined space.” All those lives, and she had not been able to do anything about it.  
“I don’t know about Cyrodill, but I heard of dragons being sighted in High Rock. Some reports indicate Valenwood has several of them roaming their forests.” He continued. She withdrew her fingers from the scale and folded her hands together. This… she had not thought about. Quite frankly she should have seen it coming. Dragons were made for domination; they would not be bound to merely Skyrim. 

“What do you want with her?”  
“The Dragonborn?”  
“Who else?”  
“We… we realized that the dragons can’t be defeated alone. I was sent with an offer to the Dragonborn. She would be provided with the help she would need, and in return she is to end the dragons once and for all.”

She looked down to her hands again. What could they help her with? But… it seemed like the Thalmor were desperate. Just like the Nords were, the way they would sometimes stop with what they were doing and watch the skies for any sign of wings and fire. The offer was tempting, Ulfric would never extend her such curtesy; the Empire was… too occupied and didn’t have much influence to even be of help to her. But the Thalmor were not even directly involved in this conflict - they would be in an ideal spot to help her. But it was the Thalmor, she reminded herself. Never trust one. She could go with him and ascertain for herself whether his words were sincere, and not an elaborate trap.

“I can accompany you… she might trust you more easily with me there.”  
“So you agree?” that hopeful look again.  
“She might not, but… it seems to be a worthy idea to talk about.”  
“Only that?”  
“I am not the Dragonborn. In the end it is her decision, yes?” This time he lowered his head in defeat. She almost felt bad… almost.  
“Listen, I cannot promise what she will agree to in the end… She is… elusive at best.”  
“Elusive?”  
“One never knows where she would be, keeps to herself on her travels. However, we could try Whiterun as a first stop.”  
“Not anywhere in Stormcloak holds?”  
“Maybe… but there is a higher chance of meeting her in Whiterun. Her home is there.”  
“Breezehome.”  
“You know.”  
“Yes, we gathered the scarce information as best as we could.”  
“What else do you know?” before she spun any tale about something he would know. Her fingers crept back to the stinging part of her throat. 

“It is a female, she appeared out of nothing three years ago slaying a dragon near Whiterun relatively shortly after Ulfric Stormcloak escaped Helgen. We have only limited reports on her sightings, mostly when she defeated a dragon anywhere near populated areas. Anything else I do not know.”

So he himself at least didn’t know about Esbern, that was good… in a sense. That, or it was held from her deliberately.  
“Just… any reports on her race affiliation are contradictory at the very most. Some say Breton, Imperial, Elven and Nord.” She scoffed at this. How did she look imperial? Not at all!  
“As you said, she is elusive.” He sighed, slumping back on his bed.  
“We both should get some rest in before we leave for Whiterun tomorrow.”

“I guess.” She was tired there was no denying it - though it could wait. She stayed awake as his breathing evened out, until the wind blowing through the cracks was the only sound she could hear. Dragons all across Tamriel… and all she had done was be an assassin and a thief. Right now she could run and never turn back. Hide in the Dawnstar sanctuary until spring came again and resume her current life. Only to have the world eaten by a dragon. Something was not right though, her gut was squirming at the idea that the Thalmor were extending a helping hand. There had to be a catch somewhere. Turning on her left side, she stared at the mer’s back to her. For now she could go along with him. After all, he would never find who he was looking for when she was with him. Though, what if she trusted him? That would never happen. But what if… she would cross that bridge when it came to that. Right now, she needed sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here comes in the idea of dragons not sticking to just Skyrim and with a three year period I would imagine they have slowly spread all over Tamriel and therefore reaching the Summerset Isles then. I was thinking of having that as a sort of wake up call to the Thalmor government making the mission to retrieve the dragonborn an absolute priority as it caused a devastating loss to them.
> 
> Now I know this is a shorter chapter than the first one, but I needed to get some background laid out in the first one.


	3. Chapter 3

Sleep didn’t come easily that night. Too many thoughts were running around her head and then just blank. At least she had no dreams, just completely passed out sleeping. That meant however, drool was hanging past her mouth when she got roughly shaken awake. 

“Wha…?” her eyes seemed to droop closed again, blinking, she lifted a hand to wipe her eyes. It helped, marginally. 

“It is past dawn, we need to move.” He had crossed his arms glaring at her, already in full armor. Past dawn? She must have gotten only a few hours of sleep. Did they really have to move already? Couldn’t she just stay in these furs for a while longer? Surely they didn’t need to hurry. 

“And wipe the drool off, you look disgusting.” She just woke up, what the hell did he want from her? Roughly she wiped at her cheek, kicking with her legs so she would get out of the entangled furs. Fine she was going to stand up. Not even that he would let her do that, he yanked her to her feet as soon as her feet hit the wooden floor while she was still rubbing sleep out of her eyes. What a son of a horker. 

“We don’t have time!” He hissed and pointed towards the wobbly looking table at the end of the room. 

“There are your things.” Blinking wearily she focused on her pouch sitting on the table. At least she had slept with her armor on, he would have been insufferable for the time it'd take to put that on. Almost sluggishly she bound the pouch over her shoulders. Stifling a yawn she followed him into the common room of the inn. No one was there, not even the inn keeper. Weird, he usually was up by now. At least as far as she could remember, it had been a while since the last time she had lodged here. Silently, she grabbed herself a loaf of bread lying on one of the tables and bit into it while the mer only wrapped his into some cloth and stuffed it into his backpack. 

“Come, we need to go.” He was already at the door, she hastily swallowed a bite down and followed him outside. Cold winds whipped in her face, frost covered the steps leading down to the road. She took another bite, this was going to be a long day. At least the cold woke her up a bit more. The grass crunched under their boots as they walked to the tiny stable at the inn’s side. His horse neighed as soon as it saw him and he smiled, it was affectionate really, and took out an apple out of his backpack. A horse was treated better than her… she had to bite her cheek in order not to scowl. 

“He was already fed and brushed.” He explained out of nowhere. She blinked, that had not been her train of thought. 

“I figured you did it already.” She lied and he only nodded. How she missed Shadowmere. Sometimes a horse made of the void was a bit easier to take care of. It took him a while to shuffle around with the saddle and reigns and started to put them on the horse. An awkward silence hung between them. Not that she minded. Her mind was still fogged up from sleep. Maybe she could get a nap in the afternoon? At least the sky seemed cloudless for now, the grass was glittering with the frost reflecting the early morning light. Kind of beautiful…

“Stay focused for once?” The elf snapped her out of her thoughts and she had to grit her teeth. Of all the insufferable mers they could have sent, it had to have been this one. He had led his horse out of the stable now, its breath a thin mist in front of its mouth. Wait… was he thinking they would be sharing a horse?!

“What are you waiting for?” Offering her his arm, he looked expectantly at her. She almost gave him her hand, just she physically couldn’t. For Oblivion’s sake she just knew him for less than a day!  
“What is it now?” He sounded exasperated. “I told you, I need your assistance. Killing you won’t serve me any purpose. Just get on the damn horse.” His eyes shifted behind, next to her and behind himself. He was nervous… 

“What is your name?” Her voice was wavering. Damn it. Her face burned. His eyebrows knitted together, his offered hand lifted and its palm facing her.   
“I… am Erador Mantrea. What is yours? I do not particularly enjoy not knowing any name of yours and the Dragonborn’s.” Another quick glance around. So he didn’t even know the name of the Dragonborn? A title stuck more than a name, she supposed. Then she could tell him her name. Maybe he’d figure it out on his own. 

“Ayera”, this time she was the one stretching her hand out. He took it and jerked his head towards the saddle.  
“Just get on the horse now.” She had to roll her eyes now. Did he really think someone would bother listening in on them? He heaved himself up on the horse, swinging his leg around. The horse shifted its hooves, to which Erador pulled on the reigns. Even the horse was anxious. What did she miss? 

“Get on the horse.” He extended his hand again, the other one bunching up the reigns. Stuffing the last bit of bread into her mouth, she took his hand and laid her other hand on the horse’s back. Then she pushed herself of, he lifted her as well until her waist was of height with the horse and she could swing her leg around. Instinctively she grabbed on his shoulder plate, as she tried to get some space on his saddle. It took her a bit of wiggling until she finally didn’t feel like her rear bones were digging too badly into the horse’s hide. He spurred the horse and she could only grasp onto his shoulders tighter.   
“Which way are we taking?”

“We will go back to the path you took, but there is a road going towards Whiterun after a grove… at least that is what the map said.” His map didn’t lie but really he only had to look for the road signs. Those were everywhere. At least they would be out of Stormcloak territory and on neutral grounds soon. Just… she couldn’t help but wish she could be with her group of assassins now, getting ready for winter. Laughing and training together, even sometimes stare into the cooking fire remembering who they had lost. How well had Babette’s herb garden grown since she had left for this contract? She had to swallow down a sudden bile in her throat. It might take years until she would see them again. All depending how fast she could fufil her duty. What would Lydia say if she saw her right now? Probably nothing but disapproving stares. After all, Lydia had been one thing above everything, loyal to her Thane and duty. 

They rode in silence. For that she was grateful, too many thoughts were swirling around her head. She was leaning on his back, her eyes dropping closed sometimes, yawning occasionally. The cold air and the rhythmic set of hooves on cobble stone was just… tiring. Her forehead was just pressed against his armor. Winter was on the doorsteps now she reminded herself whenever she tugged her fingers in between the space between her and Erador. She should have brought her cloak with her on that contract. Now it was in Dawnstar, probably never going to be touched again. Not that it mattered much, it was just black dyed wool. Nothing special. Liar.

“How long have you been searching for the Dragonborn?” She asked at one point at noon. He startled enough for the horse to neigh in protest as he had tugged on the reigns a bit too hard.   
“I have been in Skyrim since…” he frowned while thinking “the 6th of Rain’s Hand this year. That was when I crossed the border.”

Nearly six moons now. So long he had searched for the Dragonborn and then was desperate enough to go to her. With a constant reminder what a dragon did in his backpack. No wonder he wanted to get going as if a daedra was on his heels. 

“So long?”  
“Yes. Gathering intelligence and not… have attention drawn to you is a bit difficult.”  
“Why didn’t you just go to the Thalmor embassy?”  
“So that everyone who is relatively important knew who I was so they could scare him or her away? Not a chance.”  
“Did you ever see the Dragonborn?”  
“Never, only ever heard of her or arrived in the aftermath of a dragon slaying. But they would always talk about a woman with white hair slaying it. That is how I found out she was a Thane in Whiterun. Never a name, all she was ever referred to as Dragonborn. But there I lost her trail and found yours.” Shit. She thought she had been successful in having no trace of her disguises to Whiterun. Who else knew then?! Fuck. Well, seemed like Mercer was right about her. She was just a stupid little Halfling who dreamed too big. 

“How did you track me down to that specific path?”  
“I followed you to Windhelm… but I didn’t go inside. High elves are not welcome as you know.” She knew very well. No need to repeat it to her.  
“You left in the middle of the night and one of the stable hands was kind enough to tip me off about it. What a kind word can buy you… it is a bit worrying.” And he was any better? She rolled her eyes at the back of his head. At least she knew how he managed to track her down. But there was something….  
“How did you know how I looked like?”  
“There is a bounty on your head in Eastmarch.”   
“How?”  
“Looks like you are not as subtle as you thought you were in your… business.” That she didn’t believe him. 

“Why do you think Stormcloaks tried to ambush you? They knew what you did.” Impossible. There had been no witness to her murder. Bounty on her head… not that it helped much outside of Eastmarch, or outside Stormcloak territory. She could technically forget about it, but her gut twisted. Something was prickling on the edge of her senses. Either he was lying or something had gone wrong so badly.   
“Brooding?” Wait, he had expected an answer?  
“No…”  
“Liar.” Fine, she was. But it might be best he did not know what she was thinking.  
“Whatever you think.” She retorted. 

His eye roll could be felt even with his back to her. 

“We know what you are.” That much she had gathered. What would that mean for her though if she had not been the Dragonborn?  
“Given the circumstances, your… crimes will be pardoned.” Her eyebrows knitted together in their own accord. That sounded a bit too easy to be let of the hook. 

“Not worried I will kill you?” Not that she would, but approaching an assassin for help was inherently suicidal after all.   
“Not really. You don’t have a reason yet.” Was he being serious?  
“I can remember of the time you forced me to go with you and held a knife against my neck!”  
“That was necessary. Would you have otherwise listened?” By Oblivion, she wouldn’t have.   
“No.”  
“See.”  
“Still… no need to put a knife to my neck!”  
“Had to make sure you didn’t withheld any information.”  
“And that is to threaten to cut someone’s throat?”  
“There are other methods, but alas I have no time.” This time he sounded amused.   
“Just because you have no time, I should not complain?”  
“My point exactly.”  
“Spineless snake.” She grumbled.

“I have heard worse.” Worse? Fine, she would have to find something better then. She opened her mouth to say something… probably should improvise.  
Suddenly he straightened out his back and the ebony collided with her nose. Hard. 

“Watch it!” She rubbed her nose, damn it hurt. No answer. What was his problem? Stock still as if he had seen a ghost. Might serve him right, but she was talking to him!  
“I am talking to you!” She shook his shoulder this time. Nothing still. Scoffing at his back, she made to shake his shoulder again. Something hit her in the side, knocking the air out of her lungs. What was going on?! Her head felt light, was her body… was it in free fall? Yes. Suddenly she hit the hard grassy ground. Exhaling and inhaling didn’t work. Her ribcage hurt too much, especially the side she had landed on. Blue sky above, the horse’s tail swishing into her line of sight occasionally as she lay unmoving on her back. No commentary from Erador’s part. What in Oblivion has gotten into him?! Why did she have to have such bad luck recently?! Drawing a shaking breath, she rolled onto her side. He stood motionless in front of her, wide stance, almost as if he had wanted to attack something and been frozen. 

“Why did you-?!” No reaction from him again. Scowling she got back onto her feet.   
“What is the matter with you?!” She tried again. Not that it would help much. He was as still as an ice statue. By the gods! Kidnapping her, holding a knife to her throat and now knocking her off the horse and just staring at something she couldn’t see?! This was infuriating, she should really kill him and figure out how to do this on her own then. Yes. Stomping over to him, she grabbed his left shoulder and yanked him around so he would face her. The words pretty much died in her throat. His face was ashen. With a lump in her throat she turned around. Oh no…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the third part, I know it is a cliffhanger. Don't hate me! Fourth chapter will be on its way, then we will be on par with what I have posted so far on fanfiction.


	4. Chapter 4

Oh no no no. This was worse than being trapped in some plane in Oblivion. Anything would be better that this right now! She could run, she really could. Nonsense, this had nothing to do with her and frankly that was not her fault! Not this time! She worriedly glanced over to Erador again. Still as still as a stone slab. This was not good…. so not good. The horse was still there. She could technically run to it and make a break for it. An angry Thalmor was not on her plans for today. At least he wasn’t raging yet. 

“Why?” his voice broke a bit at the end. She could only sigh in response. This… was not something one could ever get used to. Not even her, although the urge to vomit had lessened over time. She looked to where he was looking. Glazed over eyes stared in the still blue sky above them, mouths hanging grotesquely open, tongues lolling out, rotting golden skin falling off cheekbones. Dried blood on their necks, at least the rest of what remained. Strings of… she couldn’t tell hanging down from them as well. The heads had been torn of violently. Her gut clenched and she had to press a hand to her mouth and nose. It usually prevented her from throwing up most of the time. Not always.

Three heads on wooden pikes in the middle of a grove. Tentatively she stepped forward, swallowing. High elves, those were the heads of high elves. She glanced back to Erador. He still hadn’t moved, but… he was staring straight at the middle head. This time she took a closer look. The face looked feminine, even with the short cropped black hair; at least the features were more delicate than the other two. She couldn’t really tell, most of the upper lip was gone, showing the rotting gums. Something white was wiggling further down in the exposed mouth. Bile was up in her throat, up her nose and she had to struggle for air. The stench was unbearable now. The eyes… one eyeball was gone, the muddy brown eye socket, there were things wiggling around there. It had to have been green eyes, at least from what she could tell from the remaining eye, too dark to be blue, too light to be anything but green. Why was he so fixated on this head? All of them were high elves, why just this one?

She turned back to Erador and saw him walk forward on wobbly feet. Eyes wide open and completely and utterly focused on it. She had to swallow and look away. It might be best if she didn’t say anything right now. Turning her head to the side, she looked around the little clearing. Most of the trees were pine trees, nothing unusual in these parts of Skyrim, deep green swallowing the day light further into the grove which led to a cave opening. How had she not seen this before? Of the many times she had walked this path, she had not seen this cave opening? Frowning she fully turned to the opening. Her gut clenched again, there was something in there. There had to be, three heads right here couldn’t be just a coincidence. Another glance back, he was still staring at them. Might be best if he didn’t go with her for now. Slowly she stepped towards the opening, her arms crossing themselves. It was too bloody cold. He didn’t seem to notice her edging towards the entrance. Good so far, inside was utter darkness. Stretching a hand out in front of her she slowly started to shuffle forwards. Her boots crunched as she was walking forward, otherwise utter silence and darkness. What could she encounter? Most likely the bodies? Maybe. Could be they had been eaten by the wild life already. Most likely. A faint light opened up to her left, a soft blueish light. A bit too soft to be something of magical nature. She waved her fingers around, meeting air, while turning towards the light. One step at a time she inched forward all the while the light got bigger. 

Oh… this was… well… weird? A grove inside a cave? Never in her life would she have thought this cave could have been that big. And why had she not used her mage light? Sometimes she was her own biggest hurdle. Flicking her wrist the tiny blue ball shot up and hovered around her head. She stood in darkness to the top and to the sides. The ground was devoid of any grass, just earth. Were those footsteps? Frowning she willed the mage light lower and crouched down. Smaller and bigger ones were strewn around. It was a mess. They didn’t look new, but not too old either. Whoever had gone through here, it had been recent and in a large group. She must be standing in a large tunnel between the actual cave and its entrance. The faint light had dimmed but she could still see where it was. Her mage light flew up until its glow touched the ceiling. It was high, she could maybe fit… twice in there with her height. What about the sides? Gently the mage light flew down, until it was next to her head again. Then she willed it to fly to her left. It took two breaths until its glow illuminated rocks, to her right it took three breaths. It seemed as if at least six people could fit comfortably through this tunnel. Maybe it had been a merchant caravan which had rested here? Would be the most probable option, but why would a merchant caravan behead and put heads of three high elves on spikes? She started walking again towards the light at the other end of the tunnel. As she approached it, the ceiling got higher until she reached the end of it. 

By the Divines… this was not a cave! This was a whole grove inside a cave with light falling through a large hole at the top. Well not really a grove, the trees were too spaced out and the grass had disappeared in the middle. A large brown circle in midst of mostly green hues. It was ugly. At least now she knew a group of people had come through and spend a while here. But it looked a much larger group than a normal merchant caravan. Something blue caught her eye. Squinting she marched forward. There between two trees past the circle. As she approached the circle, a gust of wind blew through the tunnel. Shivering she tucked her hands between the leathers of her upper arm and elbows. As soon as she was in Whiterun, she would need to buy a cloak. Belethor will charge an extraordinary amount again. What a skeever. There had been a fire place in the middle, the ash surrounded by a ring of stones was a large heap. They had to have burned lots of wood all at once or they had stayed over time. Her gut clenched again. This was not good; she walked past the remnants of the fire towards the trees. It was blue fabric. She knew this shade of blue and the hairs on her arms and neck stood on end. Not because of the wind, no, this was Stormcloak blue. There had been Stormcloaks. Too many had to have been here for it to be a normal patrol. Troops? Oh by the Divines, what was happening if that were true? Troops in these parts? On the path to Whiterun? Not good, really not good. She was about a few feet away from the tent. 

“Ayera, what in Oblivion are you doing?!” Oh, someone finally woke up from their stupor. Looking over her shoulder she saw Erador stomping towards her.  
“I saw the cave and thought to myself. Here are heads in the middle of Skyrim, why? So I went and looked around. Found the entrance and walked in.”  
“Aha, and you found something.”  
“Obviously.” She rolled her eyes at him.  
“No need to get snippy, you know Skyrim more than I do.” Biting her inner cheek she pointed towards the tree group.  
“I only see a blue tent and a remnant of a camp.” And to think he had been near Windhelm… how had he managed to become a Thalmor?  
“It is Stormcloak blue.” He frowned. Finally he was getting the idea.  
“And high elves died here.” He stated simply.  
“Not sure, we are about to find out.” She said. He was most likely right. No one else but the Stormcloaks would murder high elves. Unless of course they had been criminals.  
“Pretty sure it is what happened.”  
“I am more wondering how they ran across three high elves in these parts.”  
“How would I know?”  
“I don’t know, I was merely voicing my thoughts.”

He groaned and pushed past her to the tent. It was a small tent, something for the common soldier. Why was this one left behind? The owners died? Were they ambushed by a bear? She followed Erador to the apparent front of the tent. The flap was closed, wooden spikes holding the cloth down. Taking another step forward, she recoiled. Divines, the stench was even worse than outside with the heads, but it was the same. The bodies must be in there. She glanced towards Erador, he was frozen in place. He was probably thinking the same. But this time he acted first, the wooden pikes were ripped out and the flap was yanked up. She had to step back. It might be best if she steered clear for a while. He ducked into the tent and she held her breath. Silence. Exhaling she walked forward and into the tent. The stench got worse and she clamped a hand over her nose and mouth. Erador’s back was blocking her view and she walked to his side, craning her neck to see what he was staring at in silence. There were two cots, on each was a body. By the looks of it higher ranking Stormcloak officers, the decorative bear pelt shoulder coverings carefully draped over their chests. 

Their faces… she had to swallow hard. One was half melted with the skin black and cracked, the white of the cheek bone poking through. The other had tiny lightning scars strewn all over its face. They had been killed my magic. She looked to Erador again, wondering why he was so silent. Those were just Stormcloaks. Shouldn’t he be happy about this? He was not even looking at them, above and behind them. She turned back and recoiled. Three bodies in black robes leaned against the tent wall. No heads, the stumps black. Black robes… Thalmor. 

Those heads. They had been Thalmor agents. Another quick glance to Erador and now she saw his tensed jaw. Back out slowly. She slowly stepped back, her eyes never leaving Erador. He was breathing heavily now. Then she was out of the tent, her hand falling from her face. Fresh air, finally. She gulped a few breaths before a growl closed up her throat. Erador came barreling out of the tent, knocking into her, throwing her to the ground. She landed painfully on her back. Stunned she could lay there until a loud yell and suddenly lightning crackle filled the air. Oh no, he was not going to… Sitting up she could only watch as Erador released a lightning bolt into a nearby tree. The wood creaked and the bark burst open. Splinters flew in every direction. On instinct she raised her arm to shield her eyes. Silence again. She dared to look at Erador, whose shoulders were drawn up, arms raised still. Slowly, she rose to her feet. His fists tightened again, the blue sparks flew around them again. She froze as he released the lightning bolt again. The bark split up even more and steam rose up. Any more and he would fell the tree. He raised a fist and pressed it to his forehead. Finally she was on her feet. He was mourning. Her eyebrows creased. A natural reaction, but she would have thought the Thalmor would be more callous in those regards. She took a cautious step towards him. 

Nothing, his shoulders were shaking now but at least he didn’t charge up another lightning bolt. Another step, if she stretched out her arm, her fingertips would touch his shoulder plate. She didn’t. He jerked, she flinched and another lightning bolt was released, the loud bang echoing in her ears and raising the hair on her arms. The tree shuddered, the wood creaking didn’t stop as the top wobbled and slowly started to lean towards its left. She could only watch open mouthed as slowly the tree leaned more to the side and snapped around the impact area. It fell, the leaves fluttered and with a dull thud the top connected with the ground. Silence fell over them again. At least it hadn’t swayed towards them. Otherwise they would be another set of corpses in this cave. She closed her mouth and stared at his back. Tentatively she reached out with her hand and slowly put it on his shoulder. At first nothing happened and she sank her shoulders in relief. So far… he whirled around and she snapped her hand back. His eyes were cold and his mouth pinched in a tight line. By the divines, she was going to die! How did one conjure a ward again?!

He exhaled slowly and his mouth lost the tight line. A deep inhale and his shoulders lost their tenseness, sinking down. She should really say something. But what?! What could she tell a Thalmor about how to handle grief? To just let it go? Yes, she could say that. Might be a bit empty, just words to say to someone. She opened her mouth. Nothing came out, her throat closed up. Really? This was awkward. He sighed and turned his body to face her fully. 

“There is something I need to do.” She raised an eyebrow. Throw more lightning at more trees?  
“What do you need to do?” She asked.  
“They need to receive funeral rights.”  
“Funeral rights?”  
“Yes, they are owed a funeral.” He glanced at the fallen tree.  
“And that tree is just right.” How? What would…? Oh right, a funeral pyre.  
“Is that how you do it in the Dominion?”  
“Yes and no.” Well that answered nothing.  
“How about a simple yes or no?” He rolled his eyes at her.  
“Maybe we have more than one funeral ritual?” He snapped and walked towards the fallen tree. 

“What do you do then?”  
“Why are you so interested?”  
“Can’t I know?”  
“You can” he paused, “I am merely surprised you wanted to know.”  
“So?”  
“There is the funeral pyre, most choose it. As a way to fully commit their body and soul to the Dreamsleeve.”  
“Dreamsleeve?”  
“You don’t know?”  
“I only know about Sovngarde. The one where only Nords can go.”  
“How to explain it? I was taught that the Dreamsleeve absorbs the soul of the deceased and… what is the word for this… test it?” Test a soul?  
“Test it?”  
“The Dreamsleeve as I believe at least serves to gather the souls of the deceased and redistribute it for someone being born.”  
“So it all comes a full cycle.”  
“In a sense. Sometimes though some individuals preserve their personalities through death and ascend to an aedric plane.”  
“So… something akin to godhood?”  
“Yes, it is the goal of an altmer to reach godhood and not lose their individuality.”  
“Is that possible?” He shrugged.  
“It would be something to strive for though.”  
“Yes.” It sounded… lovely. Almost the same as the Nords in their beliefs of reaching Sovngarde through valiant deeds.  
“So you mentioned aedric planes.”  
“We believe that each of our gods in the pantheon has its own plane in Mundus. If one can withstand the pull of the Dreamsleeve it would transcend to one entity’s realm depending on its actions.”  
“Where would you want to go?” His back stiffened.  
“Doesn’t matter.” That was also an answer. He was in front of the tree now.

“And burning the bodies would ease the transition?” She asked.  
“We believe so. Sometimes we don’t burn the bodies. Criminals do not get to be burned.”  
“Adding to their punishment?”  
“Exactly. How did my teachers word it…? In the end all that matters is the spirit, burn the body to sever any tethers to Nirn.” He cringed a bit at his own words. That was interesting. 

“Not convinced?”  
“It is not my place to question these things. But I think they deserve it. Whoever they were in life.”  
“I see.” Just how will they do this pyre?  
“We will need to chop up this tree.” He said.  
“How?”  
“My sword.” He merely stated and withdrew it.  
“Won’t it dull?”  
“This blade is from ebony. It never dulls.” Ebony? She would have thought all Altmer would stick to moonstone blades. 

“Ebony? Not Moonstone?” He chuckled, lifted his arms and hacked off a smaller branch towards the top.  
“This one was handed down in the family. Here, can you take the branches to that fireplace?”  
“I see. Just most I see have swords of moonstone.”  
“Most do, but why would I settle for a lesser sword?” A fair reason. She bent down and picked up the few branches he had chopped off in the meantime. 

It took them a while to get enough wood piled up.  
“Who will get the heads?” She asked. It had gnawed at the back of her mind the entire time. Touching those heads, she shivered again at the thought.  
“You don’t want to?” She looked sheepishly at him.  
“Maybe?”  
“I was thinking us both.” Please no.  
“Look, we could cut up the tent cloth and use that as means to get them here.” She shivered again, her gut roiling again.  
“Fine, you get the bodies I get the heads.” He walked over to the tent with her behind him. 

“I would say take the flap, less cutting.” She suggested and walked into the tent, her left hand clamped over mouth and nose again. Cloth ripped and she could feel the wind hitting her back again. 

“I will be back.” He walked away and she gripped the sleeve of the nearest body. It was surprisingly… lighter than she had expected. She nearly stumbled over her own feet. At least she didn’t have to look at the stumps where the heads should have been while pulling it towards the pyre. Once there she had to stop. The body had to get in the midst of this mess of branches. She had to lift it. Bile rose up. Slowly she bent down and gripped the cloth at the back of its knee. Then it was done fast. Maybe a bit tangled up with its arms flung away and the legs not perfectly aligned but it would have to do. Divines, please let this be done fast!

By the time she was pulling the third to the pyre, Erador returned with the cloth bundled in front of him and his horse following him. He only gave her a grim expressions as she heaved the last body on top of the wood and slowly laid down the bundle. Then nothing, they just stood opposite each other staring down.  
“So….” She started.  
“So what?”  
“Are you going to do it?” He sighed.  
“Just… use fire on it. Should be faster than conventional fire.”  
“In Summerset Isles you use magic?”  
“Of course.”

Fine. She would do it. Lifting both hands she pointed the palms towards the bodies. Only seeing him doing the same at the edge of her vision. Their flames the only sound between them. She’d rather not be near Erador for now. 

It lasted hours, at one point she stopped feeding the flames, exhaustion settling over her limbs over the extended use of her magicka. The smell was unbearable. Bile burnt her throat and the flames stung her eyes, tears coming involuntarily. Her knees started to wobble, and then she was bent down heaving and spitting vomit on the ground. No reaction from Erador. 

At one point she had lain down on the ground using more cut off parts of the tent as a make shift blanket, huddling underneath it clutching her still protesting stomach. Erador was still standing there, arms crossed and brooding watching the flames just as her. They would be spending the night here, she was not keen on travelling during the night and even his horse had retreated underneath one of the trees and slept soundly. Her eyelids started dropping and he still had not moved. It was his turn then to take the first watch, she huffed and closed her eyes for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where I am at now with all the publishable chapters. The next one is in the works and all, just university is kicking my butt time wise, so please bear with me.   
> Also, the information I got about Dreamsleeve was googling around where Altmers would go after death and found some interesting interpretations about it.   
> Anyways, do post your thoughts about this.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay. It has been a hectic term for me with weekly coursework and a research project. Also this was a difficult chapter to write. So please bear with any mistakes on my part :)

Her back was stiff and sore as her mind slowly started to wake up the next morning. At least she thought it was morning. The light falling through the crack on the roof had a blueish tint still and the wind blowing through the thin blanket chilled her skin, at least not to the bone yet. Stretching her arms above her heads she rolled on to her right side. At some point she had shifted in her sleep, her back facing the fire then. The pyre had burned out; the charred wood had still the occasional small ember glowing through. It must have had burned for a quite a while into the morning hours. Had Erador stayed up far into the night and kept feeding the fire? She would rather not be kicked off the horse again today. 

“Someone is awake finally.” His voice was cold making her swallow involuntarily.   
“I am now.”

“Good, we need to move.” Probably best if she did not argue with him today. At least she could try, not sure how stupid and condescending he would get. Sighing she got up, leaving the tent flap on the ground as it was. No one would care if the tent had been cut up, unless the Stormcloaks came back only to see someone had burned something to the ground. 

They were on horseback not soon after, Erador in sulking silence and herself… she did not really know. There was some excitement to be back in Whiterun, for sure. Just with him in tow she could not really let go either. Whiterun was a fairly large city, not all people knew her, but even with her disguise it would be difficult to walk around and the people she usually interacted with not recognizing her. Otherwise… she could just tell him. No, out of question. He would get angry and… she would rather not get blasted with lightning in his rage. Later. If there even will be a later. 

The sky was grey when they stepped out of the cave. The grass was bending to the wind. It looked like there was a storm brewing, or at least a downpour in the making. Please, not while she was still on horseback. She quickly glanced to the wood stakes. There were none anymore, only a three piles of ash.   
“They will know.” She forced herself to say. 

“Do I look like I care about what they know?” He growled and gripped the reigns tighter.   
“You should.” She countered. They could not afford Stormcloaks knowing someone had burned three executed Thalmor agents and left the Stormcloaks untouched. Not they would immediately think that it had been someone Thalmor sympathetic, but it could be something they could conclude. 

“Well I don’t.” He heaved himself on the horse, settling into his saddle. “Coming?” She grasped his offered hand on let herself be pulled up.   
“I have a bad feeling about this.” She said at one point. They had been riding for a while now and something kept prickling at the back of her neck. He sighed.   
“And what should we do about that?” He sounded annoyed now.   
“Just keep on riding.” She mumbled.   
“Then why do you tell me?”  
“Something tells me we have to keep our eyes open.” He gripped the reigns tighter.   
“You think Stormcloaks are around?” He asked.   
“Maybe?” She really didn’t know, but they could be.   
“We pretty much knew that.”  
“I know.”  
“But your gut is telling you otherwise?”  
“Yes.”  
“Well, instincts aren’t always right.” She had to snicker.   
“But majority of the time, they are.”  
“Really? We will reach the hold borders by afternoon.”   
“And you really think that will mean Stormcloaks won’t cross?”  
“Not what I was implying, I mean as in not as common and they won’t be out in the open.”  
“Obviously.”  
“Then why do you keep going on about it?” He just didn’t get what she wanted to say.   
“I am just saying that something is bound to happen.”  
“The war had been going on for years now, stalemate! Nothing is going to happen!”  
“And a large Stormcloak group of troops in a cave on the road to Whiterun is not at all suspicious to you?”  
“Yes, but this is Stormcloak territory, of course there will be troop movements!”  
“It still stinks!”  
“It might, but we don’t have any evidence or indication they will cross the Whiterun hold border any time soon. A too risky move for them to pull off.”  
“No risk no gain.”  
“To go against the one hold whose soldiers are still fresh? Far too risky for someone to pull off who does not have an imperial army at his back.”  
“I don’t know, Ulfric is a veteran from the Great War. He really hates the Empire.”  
“So was I.”  
“You fought in the war?”  
“Yes. I was a member of the army.”  
“Aren’t they Thalmor too?”

He took a deep breath: “No. The army is not a part of the Thalmor. They form the government who give the order, but our military leaders issued the orders for us soldiers. However, we did have Thalmor agents in our units.”

She had to frowned. 

“So… who are the soldiers then I sometimes see accompanying the Justiciars?”   
“Oh those, they are still Thalmor. Just they were trained differently according to their talents. Not all are Masters of the Destruction or Illusion school.”  
“Then what does that make you?”  
“I was requested by the Dominion for a special mission which required my talents.”  
“Your talents?” She lifted one of her eyebrows.   
“I was a scout in the Great War.”  
“And no other scout was suitable?” He was not telling her the truth. Why she knew, she couldn’t really tell, but it didn’t feel true to her.   
“I was the most suitable and available.” This was a half-truth. Narrowing her eyes she stared at his back. She would find out what it was. Or divines help her. 

The sun was already half behind the mountain range north of Whiterun when they finally came into view with the town gates. On the stone arcs she could see the guards bustling about. Were there more guards than before? She could swear there were, but she wasn’t sure. At least it felt like it. There was something… tense in the air, among the usual heavy lavender smell of the late summer. No, couldn’t be. She was just imagining ghosts where there were none. Shaking her head silently she lowered her head, it would be best if no one saw her. Whiterun was too big for everyone to know her, maybe the more influential families, but they were in the Wind district. Just the merchants, her friend Saadia, the inn keeper… By Auriel, she might as well hide herself away most of the days. Also what did he want exactly in Whiterun? She was mostly there to make the Dragonborn, well herself, trust him. One of these days she will confuse everything and spill it in the most awkward situation. No mead for her then. Damn. Hopefully, they wouldn’t stay too long in Whiterun. It was not that she didn’t like being here, but she never stayed long. Maybe she could convince him to leave at one point. They were waved through silently, only the hooves on cobblestone were heard. The hair on her neck raised, something was going on. Ever since that cave she could not help but think about how Thalmor and Stormcloaks had come to blows.   
Once inside, they had to dismount. So many people were still bustling around in the streets. She kept walking behind Erador, no one would immediately see her or recognize her that way. People laughed and the children ran around. All seemed normal, except it didn’t feel that way. Everything had an air of tension around it. Shaking her head, she looked back down on the cobblestone. She was just thinking things. The war was not going anywhere any time soon. 

“Where do you think we are to stay?” She asked. They were close to Breezehome, she could see it already. The market would be a street further and on the other side there would be the inn. Seeing Saadia before she would disappear for… potentially forever would be sweet. 

“Don’t you and the Dragonborn share a house?” Her back went rod straight. What did he find out? Calming her breath, she exhaled before answering.  
“You found that out?”

“Yes. Rumours were that whenever you came around the Dragonborn would not be far.”  
“What do you mean? She only lets me use her house when she is away.” Think of something.

“Which has been for a while now, hasn’t it?” When has been the last time she had openly acknowledged and without any disguise been in Whiterun? Maybe two years ago? No wonder some people might have forgotten how she had looked like up close. Only superficial features. Probably that was why a dark haired, Breton looking female would only be noticed as a separate person than an obvious half elf. 

“As I said before, she is elusive.”

“Aye, that she is.” Now where had she kept the key? Somehow, it felt like staying in the house now would only raise suspicion. Not like she had done this for at least two years now. Damn her gut feeling, paranoia would only meddle with everything right now. Was the key maybe in one of her inside pockets? Slipping a hand under the leather of her collar, she felt the outside of the pocket. Yes, there it was. She pulled it out and turned to Erador.

“Where do you think you will keep your horse?”  
“There is no stable?”  
“No, but if you go to the inn, there is a large one. I think it would 10 gold to rent it.”   
“I already know that.”  
“Then why do you ask?”  
“Why pay if I could have kept him here.”  
“Well, this house doesn’t have it. I will open the door, you go get your horse to the stable and come back?”  
“And how do I know you won’t run off?” Good question. She might not have thought about it, but surely she would do it now! Stupid elf.   
“You have no way of knowing other than me telling you that I won’t.”  
“Then you are coming with me.” She snorted.   
“Fine.”   
“Look…” Oh is he starting to justify himself now? Please no.

“Don’t. I know why.” With that she motioned for him to move forward. No matter what, they both would never trust each other and it was good that way.   
The market was busy, too busy at this time. Unless, was it Sundas? Yes it was. Market day, damn. Maybe she could persuade Erador to buy supplies, any interactions on her side would risk recognition. Lowering her head, she let her hair fall to the sides of her face. Just this, get some food and then home and hopefully some rest. She could finally wash! Had she taken all of her soap to Dawnstar or had she left a bit here? Hopefully it was the lavender one. With a hot bowl of water she could finally wash the grime and the dirt of the cave off. She would need to redo her dye though, it would most likely last her another moon or so if she reapplied it and avoided too much water contact to her hair. Though, how much bigger could his eyes get if she walked in front of him with her white hair? Probably taking up most of his face. Would be funny to watch. Though… he would surely rage and she hated lightning being flung at her. Right now she would just keep him in the dark. And, she had no idea either if he would just not kill her once she had revealed herself. Swallowing she lifted her head up a bit. They were nearly at the stable, long shadows drowned the small stable. It was as if it wasn’t even there. What was the fare again? She never had to leave Shadowmere in a stable, it hated them with a passion. Hopefully he had enough coin for it, or didn’t have the audacity to ask her to pay it for him. Speaking of coin, did he have a Thalmor fun or his own? Was it running out after six months, did she have to pay for him at one point? Not that it would be too much of trouble, but it would raise questions and she’d rather have her involvement with the Emperor’s death a secret. The Thalmor had not been pleased with the news of his death, she heard. Either it would get really awkward once they reach the stables and she would have to pay.   
The smell of horse and its shit hit her hard as soon as they reached the stable and she had to stand still for a moment. Erador did not seem one bit fazed and marched to the stable master. She stayed by the entrance, it did not seem like he needed her right now and she was not willing to move further into the stable. At least it didn’t take for him long to sort it out. 

“25 gold for a week, I hope we are not staying more than three weeks.” She nodded, they would have to be gone long before that. How long was she planning on letting him stay here? Not that she had time to think about it, but she really should have thought about it when they had been close to the gates.   
“We need to buy food, I can pay.” He sighed. 

“When was the last time you and her had been here?” She shrugged. What would she know where the Dragonborn was?   
“The last time I had been here was… four moons ago?”  
“Four moons… I was in Markath then. Someone mentioned the Dragonborn had rooted out a Forsworn conspiracy. However, the Forsworn had escaped afterwards.” Oh she remembered that.   
“She talked about it, but not much either.” They reached Carlotta’s stand with some hesitation on her part. Not that she talked much to Carlotta, only when she needed food. Which was a lot in the first years, but then again no one really bothered to know who the Dragonborn really was ever since the official announcements. Why Jarl Balgruuf had felt the need to send couriers to all other jarls had been beyond her. 

“What do we need?”  
“Don’t know, might get some potatoes, leek, tomatoes if she has a few, cabbage and salt.”  
“No meat?”  
“Not today.”  
“You could buy it for tomorrow.”  
“I wouldn’t be able to store it over the night, it will get spoiled.”  
“You have no cold chambers?” He seemed genuinely curious. Cold chambers? Never heard of it.   
“A what?” He groaned.   
“It is something that…” Did he really think her that stupid?   
“I know the idea behind it, just how?” He raised an eyebrow.   
“Magic of course, how else? At home nearly every household has a room or maybe something smaller as a cooling chamber.”

That made sense, the home of the High elves would of course have magical constructs she would not dare dream of. Maybe she could? But asking him anything would only make him too curious who she was. He really shouldn’t look any deeper who she really was. Otherwise she had stepped in a hive of angry bees and that was where she really did not want to go right now. It will get awkward the day she told him… no if she told him in the first place. Just how awkward? Better not to think about it. One way or another, their interests aligned right now.

Carlotta’s stand was nearly empty. Chewing on her lower lip, she looked at what was there. Looked more like vegetable soup for today. Tomorrow she would have to go out again for food. But that was alright, her right her feet were killing her and… she would need to grab a bucket and go to the town well to get some water for a bath. Not today, tomorrow should be good day for that. Thank Mara, Carlotta was paying attention mostly on her daughter who was carving something into a block of wood than really see who was standing in front of her. At least, she did not see some sort of spark of recognition in her face. Good. Ingredients were placed on top of the counter and she had to hurry and stuff them in her bag, as Erador made no moves to take some of his own. The straps were now digging uncomfortably into her shoulders as she handed over 15 gold coins, making sure to put them on the counter and not into Carlotta’s hand. It was rude, but she really had no choice in this matter. She would either need to talk to her separately from Erador… hang on, that actually might work. Get to Saadia, Adrianne… who else, Arcadia and Belethor. Belethor might be tricky. She probably would have to buy something for him to be satisfied. The others could be avoided by not stepping a foot into Dragonsreach and that was fairly simple. She was no Thane nor would she get summoned. Although last time she had tried to lead something similar to normal, the dragon had attacked the Watchtower a blissful two weeks after she had retrieved the stone and all that Dragonborn mess had started. 

Dust flew into the air when they finally get inside her home. Her stomach plummeted; she would need to clean the floor, surfaces before they could do anything close to cooking. 

“You look like you bit into a lemon.”   
“Lemon?” He sighed.  
“You don’t know what a lemon is?”  
“And where am I supposed to know that?”  
“Would have thought… nevermind obviously I had too much faith into the trading power of Skyrim.”  
“Are they nice?”  
“Lemons?”  
“What else were we talking about?”  
“They are nice, just something you have to like.”   
“No other way to describe them?”  
“Eh… difficult for me. I don't particularly like them.”  
Rolling her eyes she stepped past him towards the buckets tucked away underneath the stairs.  
“The well is right behind the house, we will need to clean before we can even do some cooking.”  
He groaned and dropped his backpack next to the weapon rack. 

“With that logic we also need firewood…”  
“No, there should be some in that barrel over there” she nodded with her head towards it.   
“So you want me to get the fire started while you get water?”  
“Yes.”  
“No.” She blinked. Why would he….?  
“Why not?”  
“So you can take the first opportunity to run?” Seriously? Why would she run? She had agreed to take him to the Dragonborn and if what he said was true it was the world’s best chance to continue existing.   
“Why would I run? I didn’t run when you were just staring at those… heads on our way here!” His eyes flashed then and he took a step towards her.  
“Do not ever mention that again!” She swallowed instinctively.   
“And what? Pretend it never happened?!” His nose flared up and she stepped back now. She should run now…. He breathed out then, pinching the bridge of his nose.  
“Can we drop that incident?” No, she won’t. After all, if she needed something to hold over him.   
“Suppose we can.” He frowned.  
“You wanted to get water from the town well?” Had he seriously forgotten already?  
“Yes, so we can get the house clean?”  
“Fine, I will come with you anyways.”

He turned around grabbing the two buckets out of her hands and marched to the door with her right behind him. Outside were as many people as before, but more streaming towards the streets with homes rather than the market square. Squinting she looked up. The sun was halved by the homes in the Wind district. No cloud in sight. At least something good. She hated rain especially since her hair dye washed off very easily when in contact with water. Oh yes, she would have to get to Belethor and get new hair dye and then… the day would be over and she would not even be done.   
The walk to the well passed in silence. Most people didn’t pay attention to them. 

“Is that it?” Erador spoke up and she looked to the well. Oh no… Saadia was there and Ysolda. They had to turn back. NOW!  
“Uhm…” too late he already made them look in their direction. Saadia face started to light up in recognition. Ysolda’s remained impassive. Hastily she pressed her finger against her lips. All she received was a look of confusion. She jerked her head in Erador’s direction. Frowns. They had not understood…damn. Then an eye roll from Saadia as she turned back to Ysolda. Finally she had enough courage to approach the well where Erador hauled up the first bucket.   
“Where is Lucia?” Saadia was asking Ysolda now. Lucia? The poor orphan in the markets?

“She is in the markets on a chore I sent her on.” Ysolda answered lightly while looking at her nails. Since when was Lucia by her? One who had never cared?  
“And you are fetching the water.” Saadia’s eyebrows were up and her tone was anything but a friendly inquiry. Those two were better friends than her and Saadia had ever been. Though, Ysolda had always fetched water from the well. Then again she had not been in Whiterun or actively noticed Ysolda in over a year and the last proper conversation she had with her was before she had left for the Greybeards. She looked… good? The hair was in elaborate braids, the fabric of her dress looked more expensive than her or Saadia ever owned. 

“Yes, Lucia is my only maid.” Saadia rolled her eyes and heaved her bucket up, inclined her head towards her and Erador. Then she turned around and walked towards the direction of the inn. Silence fell over them as Ysolda turned her back towards them. She had not recognized her. Good. But… sad too. They had been somewhat friends. Before she was revealed to be a Dragonborn. A lot had changed in three years. Erador put the first bucket to her feet and lowered the second one into the well. Somehow she was glad that she had an excuse to no longer look at her estranged friend. Not that she would really care, after all they had not been close to begin with. Though one thing was for sure, Saadia will come later and demand explanations.   
It took them way past sunset to get the house reasonably livable again. Her nose was sore from all the sneezing she did and she hoped sincerely Erador had the same problem. At least the stew she had managed to get going while running around with a broom and trying not to knock Erador over when he was scrubbing the table and surfaces. Now, Erador was cleaning his sword near the fireplace and she sat in the chair next to him trying to fix a hole in one of her dresses. She could not really walk around in armor every day. The hole was half way closed when a knock came from the door. Both their heads to each other, needle with thread and the cleaning cloth frozen in the motion. 

“Go hide” she mouthed to him and laid down her sewing while he gathered his stuff and moved to the ladder upstairs straight to her room. Of course… he had to go to the largest one. Another knock and she slowly opened the door. Saadia. She wanted explanations, damn. She quickly moved outside and closed the door and they shuffled to the side of the house. They would be safe from anyone hearing their conversation. The air was still relatively warm from the day and the smell of lavender… it was comforting. Reminded her of a simpler time. 

“Ayera, what are you doing here?” Saadia hissed as soon as she had made sure no one was nearby.   
“What?”  
“Why are you here?”  
“Can’t I no longer the city I live in?”  
“You haven’t heard then?” If she would just tell her, she would know!  
“Ulfric is planning to march on Whiterun.” She could only snort at that. Whiterun had its own force and if Ulfric should indeed march on them they would also face a combined force of Imperials and Whiterun soldiers.   
“But…”  
“There is talk about an axe exchange. I have no clue what it all means, but when a messenger turned up with an axe, people seemed to know something was going happen. Hulda said that if Balgruuf were to refuse it, there would be war coming down on us. Our jarl refused.”

Ayera could only chew on her lower lip. Ulfric attacking Whiterun? Risky. Maybe he was desperate? He must know that Balgruuf leaned more towards the Imperials. Unless the Greymanes were to usurp him. They would open the gates and greet Ulfric with a feast. 

“When did this happen?”  
“A few weeks ago. We thought this was common knowledge by now.” No, but then again she had not really paid attention other than not being seen and recognized.  
“A lot of country folk have started going into the city now. Most of them are staying with relatives or are camping near the walls or who needs it in the temple of Kynareth.”   
“Then…” She would need to convince Erador to leave. When Ulfric came, she would need to be gone. Far away. There was no telling what he would do with her.   
“You cannot leave.”  
“I can.”  
“And abandon us all?” Saadia glared at her.   
“You are the thane of Whiterun. It is your duty to stay behind and defend the city.”  
“If I were to die in the siege. What of my duty as a Dragonborn?” Saadia stiffened.   
“You didn’t die when Lydia did. You’ll survive.”  
“You have an awful lot of confidence in my ability to hold of an entire army!”  
“Only if you were to use your powers.” No. She wouldn’t.   
“To defeat men who do not have the power? I am no Ulfric.”  
“But Ulfric is alive, that High King is not.”

If she were to shout in the middle of a battlefield she might as well turn up in her dragonscale armor and tell Erador up front she was the one he had been looking for. 

“Saadia… you know…”  
“Just… think over it.” Saadia’s shoulder slumped. She was afraid. Though, she had nothing to fear, not as much as Ayera at least.   
“You know.” Her eyes hardened.   
“Your duty is to all of us.”  
“Yes and Alduin is more important than Ulfric right now.”  
“You will leave then?”  
“I can’t yet.” That seemed to appease her slightly.   
“If you leave, I will never forgive you.” What?   
“You could flee too.”  
“And go where? I have a life here. And a Redguard woman alone in Skyrim’s wilderness?”  
“You could take the carriage to Solitude and…”  
“And be in a city which opens its gates to the Alik’r. I have Jon Battleborn…” Oh so that was the situation. She had someone.   
“You and…?” She rolled her eyes. 

“Yes, me and him. For a year now and you missed it all.” Now she looked sad. She opened her mouth but nothing came out. What could she really say?  
“Ayera, Lydia would not want you to forget Whiterun and what it had done for you.”

Did she just bring Lydia into this? That was a low move. Though, she was right. Lydia would have reminded her that as a thane she would have to stay and fight the battle and make a snide remark about the Greymanes. 

“Whoever is with you… I have a bad feeling about him. Do be careful.” Understatement of this age.   
“He is not what you think. He offered to help.”  
“An elf”, Saadia deadpanned.   
“Yes an elf.” She bit back.   
“Why?”  
“Has anyone else offered?” Saadia knew as well as her that no one had.   
“You know…”  
“No, not the pointing the way and expecting result. Actual help.”  
“He is a Thalmor.” Her eyes went wide.  
“How did you...?”  
“I have seen the armor before. He is not one of their usual agents. This is higher ranking military armor.”  
“Well…” She had to think of something really fast. Though Saadia beat her to it. 

“What can Thalmor do to help you? What do they know?”  
“I don’t know, all I know is that they raided the Blade’s archives.”  
“The legendary dragonslayers?”  
“Yes those. And you know the Greybeards are not really going to help me. I cannot go to Winterhold with the whole war going on.”  
Saadia held her hand up.  
“I get it, more than you realise.” Oh she knew exactly why.   
“People forget why I did it. Just that I did it. So here I am regretting nothing.”  
“I have no other choice.”  
“None, just I hate to see it happening to you once this all comes out.”  
“It won’t.”  
“Ysolda recognized you.” Oh no.  
“She won’t say anything?”  
“I am sure she won’t.” They stood in silence.   
“I should go back to the inn. It is good to see you again. Some thought you were dead.” She cracked a smile. Ayera could feel herself smile.  
“As you said, I do tend to survive.”

Erador seemed determined to stay once she relayed the news of a potential siege.   
“As you pointed out. It will be Whiterun and Imperial soldiers going against rebels. We will be fine.”  
So they stayed. 

It took three weeks. First the gates were closed. The guards were doubled on the walls. Everyone was tense. It could all go to Oblivion in mere moments. One morning, Ayera was thrown from her sleep by the sound of horns. Erador stumbled into her room saying that there was an army outside of the walls with catapults and they should run to Dragonsreach for any chance of missing any missiles. It went on like this for a week. Missiles raining from the sky, crashing against the walls, denting or sometimes tearing stones away from it. By some miracle the houses further away from the wall were not hit. For now.   
Then one afternoon she got approached by a guard. 

“Their army is preparing for an assault. We need all able bodied people.” She looked towards Erador numbly. He nodded. What was he planning.   
“We will fight at your side.” The guard nodded and moved on to the next person. Erador grabbed her by the upper arm and whispered into her ear.  
“If the battle goes against us, we will flee. The Dragonborn surely will not come to Whiterun now or ever should the city fall. If we win… then she might return faster.”

They all had to gather near the gates. She had her bow slung over her back and dagger strapped to her hip. Erador stood next to her, hand on the pommel of his sword.   
“Defend the barricades.” All the orders they received and Ayera exchanged worried looks with Erador as a perfectly formed group of Imperial soldiers marched past them.   
“I have a bad feeling.”  
“Me too. But it seems as if we are going to be on the walls.”  
“How are we going to leave in case?” She hissed into his ear.  
“If the barricades were to fall, or when we are drawn out into open field, we have the opportunity there. And given it is going to be night soon, it should give us an advantage.”  
Gulping she put her helmet on, he followed her movements as they walked up the outer walls.   
“You have no bow.”  
“I have my magic.”  
“Won’t you be exhausted?”  
“By then we can move up or retreat. Either way this will be a short battle. They are at a disadvantage.”  
“If you say so.”  
“You could set your tips on fire.”  
“Do you see any oil around? There is nothing really flammable about my arrows.”  
He sighed.   
“We have still time. You can use magic, use it.”  
“I do not want to hit any of ours.”  
“It will happen one way or another. Nothing to be changed about it.” She narrowed her eyes. 

They stood like this on the outer walls for hours. No wind, no rain. Everything was perfectly still. Fitting given the situation. The figurative drawing in of breath before everything boiled over. Then suddenly a horn blew and hordes of Stormcloaks started marching towards them. This was it. She was going to die. Breathe in and out, aim and release. 

The gates held the initial advance, most soldiers dying in the hail of arrows or lightning strikes. All through the night they held it, the arrow sailing past their heads. Erador was cowering next to her, shielded by the walls. She could not see much in the darkness and they both huddled together, the night freezing her fingers stiff. Their dead and injured were being laid out on the streets, the disciples of Kynareth walking between them, the priest of Arkay administering the final rites. No one else was out, most of the civilians had fled to the keep.   
“I don’t understand why they attacked so late. Surely they must have known that the night would give us the advantage?” He whispered while they huddled together to keep themselves warm. She shrugged at him. Who knew what they were planning. But as he said, the gates would hold through the night. Even if they did, what about tomorrow?

“They could attack during the night. We can’t see them after all.”  
“Neither can they”, they had extinguished all light in the city, even Dragonreach was completely dark, „We are in a better situation to hold them off. The draw bridge is closed and we are defending it. Unless someone from the city opens we are fine.”  
If no one betrayed them they would be fine.   
So they held on. 

Dawn broke, pink light illuminated Dragonsreach when they reassumed they positions just as the Stormcloaks reformed their ranks. All was quiet, the archers on the walls held their breaths, readying themselves. Erador flexed his fingers, sparks temporarily flying between his fingers.   
The Stormcloaks were close now. Ayera could see tiny spots of skin between all the steel. She released. One of many arrows flying towards the advancing force.   
Something rattled, creaked breaking hers and Erador’s concentration. It sounded like chains moving, wood was creaking. She turned around in disbelief just as the drawbridge fell and smashed into the ground, bridging over the water moat. Suddenly blue armored men ran out of the drawbridge house, with bloodied steel. What? How? How could they have not noticed? 

Erador gripped her arm hard, “We need to leave now.” She was still frozen in spot just as the Stormcloaks descended on them with a massive roar.   
“To the barricades!” a legionnaire yelled as he advanced with some troops on the infiltrators. 

It was a bloodbath. They had had the upper hand once the infiltrators had been dispatched of. But… the bridge was never raised again.   
Towards the evening, they caved. The first barricade broke after the sun was nearly half way gone over the horizon. Now the battle was on open ground. Imperial soldiers leading the charge in orderly lines, red against blue. 

For her, it all was a blur. She slashed and threw lightning around, her ears drumming from all the crashes and yelling. How Erador was still standing she did not understand. His sword and shield were never stationary. 

An arrow knocked into her shoulder plate, knocking her backwards, her lungs struggled to drive air into her. It was dark now, she could not see who suddenly grabbed her around the shoulders. This was it, she was going to die.   
“Don’t scream” it was him. She could feel herself being dragged backwards, the sounds of battle becoming more distant. Another horn sounded, a loud bang and with horror she saw more Stormcloaks stream into the gate. Most likely already over the drawbridge.   
They had lost. The city was lost. May the gods have mercy on her for this failure. She had failed again.


	6. chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it might not be my most polished chapter, my beta reader dropped out on me after my fourth chapter so apologies for any grammar or language hiccups. I think I might edit the chapter later on.   
> Do enjoy and if you can do leave a comment. They always make my day :)

It was a surreal feeling like being underwater to be dragged away from a battlefield. Nothing seemed to exist in her mind when Erador had hooked an arm underneath her chest and hoisted her up. Everything was numb to her, the sounds were dulled as she stared disbelievingly at the burning city gate as she was taken away into the darkness , continuing to stare at the retreating inferno as it grew smaller and smaller. Her mind it seemed had left her body, there but not there at once making her oblivious to what was happening right now. Neither did she register being pulled down a hill nor did being forcibly sit down on hard rock or being shaken and yelled at. The temptation to slap him was great and she would have done it if she weren’t so… numb. It was still dark and she couldn’t make out her surroundings due to the lack of light. Everything was so cold, she suddenly noticed she was shaking violently. Her dagger must be on the floor, its familiar weight missing from her hand.

A sudden burst of light blinded her temporarily as a small ball of soft glowing white with a tinge of blue light rising from Erador’s palm. A candle light spell, handy and its soft light nearly shook her out of the reverie if it didn’t remind her too much of the cozy life in Whiterun.   
Then a shadow fell on her face making her eyes hurt from the sudden change in light. It was his face, dark for her but he was close and his hands on her forearms were gripping her tightly still shaking her. There was nothing she could focus on and noises got louder and quieter, she couldn’t understand what he was saying to her. 

A sharp stinging pain in her cheek and her head being jerked painfully to her right managed to break her out of this stupor. The sounds returned to normal and again and she finally could focus on the mer in front of her looking at her intensely. He had slapped her….Rather hard as well considering her cheek was numb. She looked up at him in shock. How dare he?

“Ayera, Whiterun has fallen. The Stormcloaks had infiltrators who opened the gate for them behind our backs.” 

He had gripped her arms and held them tightly. Was he afraid she would lash out for that slap? She should really, no one got to slap her, but now she had other things to worry about. Her home for three years had been captured by a selfish so-called-king with the help of traitors. Unconsciously her face contorted in a snarl as she thought of the possibility. If she found them, they would pay dearly for that mistake. She focused back on Erador and swore she saw a glint of sympathy in his eyes before it extinguished. Had it even been there or was it a trick by the light? Where were they anyways?

He seemed to have guessed what she had been about to ask “I just dragged you away from the battlefield and further until I felt it would be safe. From what I know we are in the plains outside Whiterun and Rorikstead.” 

How fantastic her sarcastic part quipped, he doesn’t know where they are, what the hell they were doing and decided to cast a light in the plains which can be seen for long distances! Idiot! On reflex she gripped his casting hand and hissed “Put the light out, they will see it!”  
He only chuckled at it but extinguished it nonetheless, plunging them into darkness. According to some, elves had better vision in the night as well, less than a Khajiit still, she couldn’t really compare to anyone about it. Some contours were visible and Erador must be crouching in front of her, everything else was too dark to see. 

“They are all probably just getting drunk on all the mead I have seen in the inn.”  
“NO!” Surprised with her own outburst she clamped a hand over her mouth and looked to the distant light which should be Whiterun unless they ran further than the nearby Fort. Erador must have thought similarly because he started shuffling around and gripped her arms again.   
“Any louder and we are discovered.”  
“Says the mer who lit up a light….” She bit back. If he was going to scold her then she could at least rub his mistake in.   
“We are under a few boulders, I am more concerned about your shout than my meager light.”  
That would explain why he had risked it.

“Ayera” he started again “do you think they know where the Dragonborn is?”  
Why would he think that? He must know that they hate the Dragonborn… actually he didn’t, all he knew was that they hated her, who to his knowledge was just an acquaintance of the Dragonborn. How long could she keep up the façade until he realized something wasn’t adding up, which he probably was already doing. Just she didn’t trust him enough not yet anyways. 

“Why would they?”  
“Whiterun is strategic in the war I grant that, but it is also the hometown of the Dragonborn as you said. If they recruit the Dragonborn on their side then I shudder to think what will happen.”

He sounded genuinely concerned and she understood why. Stormcloak and elves didn’t mix too well. Though he had a point, if the Stormcloaks could claim the Dragonborn then that would boost their morale and demoralize their opposition.   
“Even if she isn’t in the city now.”  
“That they will realise sooner or later, but then they will go and look more thoroughly.”   
“We should rest, the battle has taken up most of our strength and tomorrow we need to figure out a new plan. I don’t think we will be attacked by wolves tonight, there is after all a battle field not far away if they haven’t burned them already.”

They would eat the corpses and that was certainly easier than to hunt two living persons, but if Skyrim taught her something then safety during sleep should take priority. 

“Doesn’t matter, we should at least have a precaution… just in case.”  
“Precaution? The Nords will most likely drink themselves into a stupor by now and any others will gorge themselves on the dead.”  
“Well, that is your impression but I know the people more than you. Don’t patronize the Nords, they are immensely stubborn and Ulfric knows that the Dragonborn and I live in Whiterun, they are most likely interrogating the citizens after our whereabouts.”  
He was quiet, the darkness it was hard to tell whether he was thinking or just not responding. His hands retreated and Ayera couldn’t really say whether he was close or far, just he felt to be near.   
Then the familiar frosty blue light signifying an ice spell lit up to her right. The pale glow illuminated his face sparsely but she saw his exhaustion. 

“What are you doing?”  
“Placing a rune, we will be able to be warned early enough. We need the sleep, though, why aren’t you tired yet?”

Dragonblood does have that effect on her, making her edging for more battle after another. For her to settle down again took more time than for anyone else. She just shrugged muttering something about her being still in the battle with her mind, but she was tired after all, because she was dead asleep when Erador came back from placing several of those runes. 

Morning came quickly and the greyish hue on the sky gave way quickly to the vibrant orange of the sunrise. She had been awake before that, her stomach had woken her up with feeling twisted. A sign which usually forebode nothing good. She was wanted in her own city now that Ulfric is commanding it now, that pretentious prick. The life she had built up for herself in the last three years gone in one night of battle. The man next to her was still asleep and she dared not to wake him, more minutes without his constant nagging were precious to figure out where to go from here. She needed to tell him the truth sooner or later; he already was suspicious of the half-truths she was feeding him at the moment. However, the most pressing matter was planning the next step. The battle felt like it had been an eternity between its end and this moment, but her conscious mind told her that it had been just mere hours.  
He moved slightly and she knew that her time of planning was over for now. While watching him scooting away from her, she looked which of her weapons were still in her possession. Dagger and bow were there as well as a few arrows, but that was it. 

“We need to go back into the city.”  
Her head snapped up in surprise. Surely he must have a death wish to go into a newly conquered city from whom they had fled in the first place. Not fled… he fled and had dragged her along. Smart move at that time. Bringing them out of any risk to be captured. 

“Our bags are still at the Bannered Mare where we left them with Saadia and if they are found then they will know who was there. They will most likely follow us and drag you to questioning. And you know my map will indicate to them where your friend had been.”  
“You never mentioned a map.”  
“I made note of everywhere she had been according to records and rumours. Establish a pattern and see if I could ever predict where she would be.”  
“So and you managed to find me because of that tactic?”  
“Yes. Do you think Saadia would give them our bags?” They had given her their pouches with necessities in case, but then they hadn’t anticipated being dragged into open field battle. 

Saadia would never betray her was her first instinct to say, but she kept her mouth shut. What would Saadia do now? She had failed her after all.   
“I think you are being paranoid.”  
“No, you are a citizen of Whiterun, people will have recognized you and some will have talked. Standard procedure in any military conquest when a person is wanted. The people around that person will be questioned. Tortured even… the Stormcloaks are no innocent of these acts.”

He wasn’t even denying that his faction also endorsed this. Before she could open her mouth to bite back he interfered with a glowering stare. She knew that they couldn’t afford any arguments now that so much more was on the stake. He had sat up and faced her completely. Now she saw the blood crust on his forehead. Head injury, fleetingly healed by magic, needed more attention to determine no infection had set in. Almost automatically she summoned a healing spell and let it flow over to him. 

“What are you…?”  
“Trying to help you, now shut up I need to concentrate.”

He opened his mouth again to retort something but it died in his throat when the golden glow settled around the wound and skin began to knit together. Fortunately for him there was no infection setting in so she dropped the spell after a short while. Once the golden glow had vanished an awkward silence hung between them. 

“We still need to get into the city.”

She scrutinized him closely, he still wore his armor so did she. First thing they could get arrested for if they approached any Stormcloak held settlement. Then he was an elf, he would be closely monitored or taken away for questioning and potential execution. She could cover up most of her identity, but his will be difficult to conceal. Though he was right, they needed their pouches.

“Whatever you are thinking, spit it out”, he snapped. 

In response she turned up her nose a little, this was her field of expertise, he had most likely had no knowledge of skillful infiltration.

“You do know that we both will be arrested if we go in as we are now?”  
His jaw tightened and he also crossed his arms, a clear sign he had thought about it, but she only took it as a challenge to continue. 

“We both need to disguise ourselves, your elven heritage needs to be less obvious”, gives a pointed glare at his ears and skin, “in addition we need to have civilian clothes with a valid reason to be in Whiterun. I know Belethor…”  
“Who is Belethor again?”  
“The owner of the general goods shop in Whiterun. He sometimes has people delivering stuff. If we find something we could give to him to sell then we have the perfect reason to be in Whiterun.”

She observed Erador in front of her while he seemed to chew the information she gave him. 

“You could almost think you are doing it on a daily basis.”

That was correct, but not something he needed to know. He knew about her affiliations with assassins, there was no need for him to know about the thieves guild. 

“No, but this is common sense.”  
“A Breton telling an elf what common sense is”, he gave her an amused look.  
“How else would you have approached it?”  
“Isn’t there a stream there which goes through the city walls? I would have sneaked in from there.”  
Not bad of a plan but far too obvious in her opinion. But she noted it down as a potential escape route if everything went as bad as Ulfric’s mouth smell. Did that man ever wash his mouth?  
“Too obvious. We need something not that obvious in infiltration attempt.”  
“Anything else would be obvious”, he had this look on him. Hard to describe, something which Mercer used to have when she came back from jobs done well, but always found something to tear her down for. The man in front of her didn’t take her seriously…. He would learn, like everyone else did. How dared he to question her expertise?  
“You don’t know Nords, they expect the obvious.”  
“Of course I considered that, but surely that is the only option at the moment”, he drawled. 

“Do you want this to work or not?” She finally snapped and glared at the mer in front of her. How she wished she could wring his neck. He only gave a smile.

She took a deep breath. Going through the sewers was an alright idea, but far too obvious and with the city being freshly conquered, those would be guarded. Back to her original idea of going in disguise. The freshly married couple on a delivery while passing through was ordinary enough not to rouse any suspicions. The only dent in the plan was the possibility to be turned away at the gate because of him being obviously an Altmer or potentially being taking because of the same exact reason. They had to risk it and if that failed, they needed to climb over the walls then. Not a difficult task, the bricks did give lots of opportunity to haul yourself up. 

“Of course I do, but two heads are better than one, right?”

If one of those heads actually knew what they were talking about sure, but he was a novice, she was trained. 

“I think your head counts as nothing so only one head in here. Listen….”  
“I wouldn’t just go and dismiss what I have to say about this.”  
“Have you ever infiltrated something?”  
“Oh yes of course. Part of the job you see” he drawled. She really wanted to kill him right there. 

Grounding her teeth she looked to the sky, it was nearly at the zenith, the longer they bickered the less chances they had to pull it off any plan. 

She motioned for him to move away, which he complied after a second following her movement. Dragonsreach was still visible from where they were, but she was sure no one could see them from here. 

“We need to be closer to see what we can do. Disguises might be in the meadery outside of the city or in one of the farms close by…”  
“I fear the meadery”, Erador pointed to a tiny blurry spot further to the right of Dragonreach, “will be packed with soldiers. Do you know any of the farmers personally?”

“Battle-Born farm is too close to the walls, we could be spotted…”, she started thinking again.   
“Loreius Farm might actually be far away enough and I think the owners usually flee into the city when a battle is on the horizon.” Just she hadn’t seen the owners at all in the city. 

Judging from where they stood from Whiterun, they needed to head further north and walk an arc around the city until they found the farm. Looking to her companion she saw that he was looking towards her right and pointed further right of the Meadery. 

“That one looks like a farm as well, maybe we can go in there?”  
Ayera turned her head where he was pointing and searched her brain for any memory.   
“Pelagia farm, you sure you want to risk going so close to the city and the battlefield?”  
“Where is Loreius Farm then?”  
“If we go around the city walls, behind Dragon Reach, we will reach it by afternoon.”  
“That would mean we would leave the farm earliest by tomorrow as we can’t arrive late in the evening with deliveries”, he continued.

He was right that once they reached the farm that they had to most likely convince the farmer in case he had stayed behind to lend them some clothes and then stay overnight in order not to rouse any suspicion why they, a travelling merchant couple, arrived in the evening when everyone was still asleep and the gates closed, well the ones which were still standing she added. 

His frown showed that he was questioning the time it would take and she knew it would take too much time, but would taking the risk of going near the city be worth it?

“Can we approach the Palagia farm out of view from the soldiers?”  
Impossible. They were in armor which was bloodied and dirtied.   
“I don’t think we should, even if we could, they might see us going out there and it was in the middle of the battlefield, rather suspicious if we walked out of there.”

The frown was still there but he clenched his jaw and nodded very slowly. 

“Also we are approaching the farm in armor so close to the walls which are high enough to see someone approaching the farm.”  
He sighed “Alright, we will go to the Loreius farm and go from there tomorrow.”  
“You know where we are going” he made an arm movement which she interpreted was a after you gesture. 

With that they started walking across the grass with very few words exchanged between them actually, they were more focused on the high walls of Dragonsreach which cast a long shadow. Every now and so often the hairs on her neck stood up and caused her to pull Erador between boulders in case they had been spotted to which he only said that from this distance they really couldn’t be seen, but didn’t really put much of a fight when she felt the need to do so. 

“You know Whiterun is a beautiful city if it weren’t being currently held by the Stormcloaks,” she blurted out at one point when the silence hanging over them got unbearable. Lydia and her had always chattered about everything and then she’d been gone. However, she couldn’t really walk beside someone and not have a conversation. He seemed to be taken aback for a moment before answering “I have seen as such. Farengar, I am sure you know him” Ayera nearly coughed when he mentioned Farengar, of course she knew him, that one was an embarrassing attempt at a relationship, “He was more than delighted to meet someone versed in magic and started going on about his dragon research”, so he was still doing it, “and then mentioned the Dragonborn. That is why I knew about Breezehome being her house.”

He certainly knew how to get information, at least he didn’t go to Arcadia, she would most likely talk about how she had blown up the Alchemy table and Belethor would get paranoid about it. At least Farengar didn’t mention the time she had gotten drunk and tried flirting with him which resulted into some making out only to realise he wasn’t…. up once they were finally alone. 

“You know he also told me something interesting as well…” no no, please don’t “apparently he and the Dragonborn were nearly courting until something happened. I nearly felt sorry for him, a Nord imagine, me feeling sorry for a Nord!” well quite honest she did too “I don’t know what he did but his face into an interesting shade of red when I asked what his relationship with her was.”  
Farengar, she vowed, would get his arse kicked if she ever met him again. 

“Why are you turning bright red?”

Oh Auriel, damn her face. She needed to come up with something quickly. 

“She came to me that evening”, good start so far, “and she had been mortified at it when she told me that the guy she had had her eye on for a long while wasn’t attracted to her enough.”

As convincing as a lie could go, though to be fair, she only switched out the names. Her going to Saadia who had only howled in laughter.   
There was a deep rumbling near her and turning around revealed Erador holding a hand to his mouth clearly trying to choke back laughter which resulted into a full blown laughing fit when he saw her. 

“Please don’t tell me he couldn’t get it up…”, he cried while snorting. Her face must have been the only answer he needed and proceeded to laugh for a good long while. 

Men…. ran through her head while she watched him leaning on a boulder howling in laughter. 

“Can we please go on?”  
“Sure, but please tell me more of their” he made some air quotes “courtship.”

That earned him a shove he laughed at and Ayera smiled at his antic. In all honesty, she liked this side of him, but he was still the same arsehole she had met near Dawnstar. End of discussion. 

Once they got going with Erador randomly bursting into laughter along the way temporarily even for split seconds making her forget her own failure of keeping her home safe. 

They reached Loreius farm after the sun started to lower itself on the horizon again and were greeted by silence. No chickens, cows and no inhabitants. They came to a stop before a solid wooden door and he looked ready to smash it with his boot. Not that she could let that happen. Any traces of deception must be erased. Always assume the one investigating is as or even smarter than you. Before he could do anything to the poor door, she stopped him by placing a hand on his upper arm and tugging at it. He turned his head to look at her puzzled to which she only responded with a head shake and produced some lock picks out of her armor pouch. It was almost laughable when his expression turned from puzzled to annoyed in a split second. Probably didn’t like it if someone messed up his plans. Comes from rushing things without actually discussing it with your companion she thought smugly while going on a knee to inspect the lock. A really easy one which made Ayera miss the complicated ones in Solitude or the ones designed by the Dwemer before they disappeared. This one was like the ones she had trouble with when doing her first lock pickings, but that was three years ago and she had practice and experience to rely on. It clicked open. Both of them stumbled into the dark room. 

The first thing she noticed was the smell, putrid and strong. She would have bolted out if Erador hadn’t grasped her around the shoulders in a steely grasp and kept her rooted to her spot. So she resorted to clasp her hand over her nose and let her eyes adjust to the dark setting. Soon enough furniture and more details crystallized in front of her eyes. She let her eyes roam the room until they fell on a heap of something in the corner, the smell seemed to come from over there. A sickening feeling plummeted into her stomach as she realized what it was. Her knees turned wobbly and she would have sunken to her knees, but the mer still held her upright even not making a move himself. Then he pulled her closer and dragged her away deeper into the room where a door led to the living quarters of the deceased family in the corner. 

Once in the other room, he let her go where she collapsed to the floor gagging with nothing coming out. She heard him going around and rummage through the drawers and chests. He seemed to only care if they were elves, she should not really be surprised, but a small part in her head had hoped. How could she have believed he was alright when they were walking here? 

Something hit her in the face, something soft and felt like cloth. 

“Snap out of it, woman! No use sitting around here lamenting them!” 

That did it, inconsiderate pointed-ear…. She had said nothing in that cave and he had the audacity to make that remark! 

Before even she realized it she had launched herself at him catching him in the chest causing them to tumble on the floor. She sat on his stomach landing punch after punch on his face which he blocked. Vaguely she heard herself yelling at him, but she couldn’t make out what exactly she was throwing at him. Something along the lines that he had never gone through what she had. All caution in the wind, this was unaltered anger.

One of her punches then managed to break through his defense landing a solid punch in his jaw. Satisfied with that success she reared back again to pack a more powerful punch after it as well, when she lost her balance on him. She couldn’t even question how that happened, when he sat on top of her catching both arms and ripped them above her head, rendering her helpless. He was breathing hard and his eyes blazed in fury. Oh Sithis, she was going to die now and squeezed her eyes shut.

But he didn’t kill her, he did something far worse. Something which made her hate him. Something which made her hate him for a short moment.  
He hugged her. 

Certainly made her stop in her tracks and crane her neck so he could see his face. Why wasn’t he fighting back? Isn’t this what he wants? No, he looked straight into her eyes “Go on, rage as much as you want but let it go once you step out of the room.”

How could she let this go? A whole family had been murdered in their home, their safe heaven! Arrogant mer, probably never tasted the bitter taste of betrayal before. Where did his anger go?! 

Just something in what he said or how he had said made all her anger dissipate. All gone and just an itching nose remained. Oh Auriel, was she about to cry? She hadn’t cried for a long time. Not with Astrid, not with Lydia although dangerously close… why now?

Her nose scrunched up and then the tears flowed. She the master assassin lay there crying about the casualties of war. Saadia had offered her the same kindness but with her she had only vowed to kill them all who had made her suffer. Why was he so different?

Her face had somehow found itself in the crook of his neck and tears still spilled from her eyes, but it was all getting out. Memories of Lydia, how they laughed together or how they looked the stars, then the ambush, the dragonpriest, the blood, Astrid in her deadly glory, then burned and dying begging for forgiveness for trying to save the family, Mercer stabbing her in the Snow Veil Sanctum, insanity in his eyes when her dagger struck his heart, everything swirled around in front of her inner eye. Joy, then pain, making her cling tighter to him and then…. it was gone. 

Hang on… She was still in his arms and he was still observing her. She was one pathetic Dragonborn, even if he didn’t know but still, she was supposed to be strong, not sniffling like an idiot because of some dead people! She brought death on her foes without mercy. Why did she tear up now?!

Something touched the back of her head softly and with a start she realized he had been stroking her hair to soothe her. Hopefully the dye didn’t come off….  
Then it hit her, he wasn’t looking at her, he had this far off look in his eyes. He was remembering the cave. His hand in her hair sometimes tightened but she knew it wasn’t because he intended to hurt her even if it pulled a bit too hard against her scalp. She felt like a downright bastard now, she had accused him of not knowing what she had gone through and hadn’t even considered him in all of this. 

Her Dragonborn honour forbade her to just let him be, he offered her kindness and soothing so she had to do the same, now though she did it gladly. Tentatively she reached out a hand wrapped it behind his neck and hugged him back. He tensed up shortly before easing into it and Ayera supposed that this was as far as she got with an acceptance of her apology.

Time was at a still stand until he eased gently back to reality. Something had changed between them and Ayera couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but something had changed. Slowly and gently he disentangled himself from her, getting up and extended a hand to help her up which she accepted.   
“There are your clothes” he pointed at the bundle of cloth in the far off corner. His voice seemed strained as well, but she couldn’t bring herself to dig into it.   
They changed in silence, neither awkward nor comfortable, but it wasn’t as tense as when they had first met. 

The pants were too big for her, though it would allow her to smuggle her daggers into the city she thought whilst trying to adjust the chest area of the tunic as it was tiny bit too tight there resulting in sometimes a moved neckline which caused Erador to look away quickly allowing her to adjust in with a crimson head. He himself had more trouble than she did, he was just too muscular to fit into the tunic. In the end he had to stick to the leather one he wore underneath his armor. The problem they had now was trying to hide his sword underneath it all. She had offered to strap it on her back and keep perfectly straight while they were seen. He declined it though saying that it would be too obvious if it was strapped to her back since one wrong move and the tip would show, in the end she agreed with him. 

“Do you know how to wield a dagger?” She could only roll her eyes at his antics of trying to fit in the sword in his pants.   
“Of course I do!”  
“Then I can give you one once we are inside the city walls and go into the house again, there are some spare daggers.”

He would like the Blade of Woe she thought grimly.   
It was in the early hours of twilight when they finally buried the last member of the dead family, not burning them to not rouse any suspicions. His hand had been on her shoulder making it enormously difficult not to make a wrong move with the current neckline issue. It was his form of condolence so she wouldn’t brush it off knowing this was the most she would get now and therefore didn’t shrug it off. 

Her appetite had been ruined for the day and watched Erador tear into the pieces of overcooked meat like a starved wolf. That was when she broke the silence.

“Tell me about Summerset Isle.“  
He looked up and watched her for a moment while chewing through a tough chunk of meat before replying, “What do you want to know?”  
“I don’t know. Something…like is it cold or warm?”  
“Generally warm except in the mountain ranges and in the winter months.”  
“Are they a lot of mountains?”  
“There are a few, but most of it is plains. Why do you ask?”  
“Just wondering, haven’t been out of Skyrim and wondered how the rest of Tamriel is like” she shrugged even though she was quite curious. Erador put the fork down and seemed to think again, “Have you heard about our government?”  
She nodded slowly.  
“The Thalmor.”

“Well we had a king, a queen and nobility once and it depended on how influential the various noble families were. Mine had the luck to have a good trade and some are brilliant scholars and such. Then we had to prove ourselves after the reformation. Then it was possible to rise to nobility by simply sucking up to someone”, he added darkly,   
“Had any experience in that?” He froze. His shoulder tensed, then his face contorted in anger. She shouldn't have said that... Damn her mouth. 

“None of your business, Breton! Be glad you are useful to me, I would have killed you if you weren’t!” She nearly fell out of her chair from the sudden outburst. She had hit a spot and a very sore spot at that considering his murderous look and felt remorse. 

A long silence fell over them the rest of the evening with the occasional angry glare from Erador when she tried to re-establish any conversation trying to show him she hadn’t meant it like that, but the words to ask for forgiveness didn’t come. Maybe they both needed to sleep over it.

She tried once more but he only cut her off with a gruff “You sleep on the bed and I am on the floor.”  
“Look… I.” He looked at her angrily and the words got stuck in her throat.  
“I…”  
“Save yourself some embarrassment and get some sleep” he moved to shove her away which made her tumble into a shelf. By Auriel, that hurt as she held her shoulder watching Erador storm out of the room. 

She stood there for a good solid while and kept thinking that she was the dumbest half breed to ever cross the land. Why did she have to say that? He was her key to finally be able to kill Alduin and not be half dead when she defeats a dragon with the help of others. Maybe she was weak as Ulfric had yelled at her. At one point she needed to drop the farce of knowing the Dragonborn and lead him on trying to find “her”. Just she didn’t trust him enough… even though he could have left her to die on the battlefield and punch her when she saw the dead family. Maybe he wasn’t as bad as she thought he was. Still was a jerk though. But somehow she cared about him not being angry at her which he is now and will be when she finally gets herself to admit to the lie. 

Sighing she returned to the chair and started thinking of how to remedy that situation. They would most likely travel together for a long time and making the other dislike her wasn’t helpful in the least. Where did he even go? Going after him now wasn’t the best idea. He probably wouldn’t appreciate it now but... she really didn't want them to be on bad terms for long either. 

The plate and fork were still there and some of the food were still left, might as well get it back to him, he must be still hungry given how he had torn into it. Just not now, still needed to think of a good way of apologizing. She couldn’t really go up to him and hug him like she usually did with Lydia, but that happened only once and then it had only been a broken sword, now she had really pissed him off. Running a hand through her hair she looked at her hand seeing the black stains on it. The dye was coming off little by little. Unfortunately Belethor was unreachable at the point for a restocking of the paint. Then if they managed to pull it off without a hitch, then how was she going to explain that to Erador? This got tangled too much too fast and she just couldn’t get herself to unravel that knot. Just say the bloody words, can’t be too bad. Say that she didn’t intend him to be angry, that her tongue got the better off her. To Sithis with this, he was a Thalmor, she shouldn’t care whether he is angry with her, he still needed her and will need her. 

A loud thump shook her out of her musing and heard footsteps in her direction. Her heart beat faster as thoughts raced through her head all trying to work out how to apologise to him. What would he actually accept?

The footsteps stopped shortly and then changed direction, the bedroom as she knew. Felt weird to sleep in a bed whose former owners they had buried mere hours ago. Maybe she should wait still. The drowsiness wasn’t too bad…yet. Her eyelids didn’t have a mind of their own yet, but not having enough sleep will delay them tomorrow, they needed to plan more. Yawning she stood up and after another thought grabbed the bowl with food and walked slowly to the room she knew he would be. 

He was sound asleep on the bed at the end of the room. Probably forgot or didn’t care about the separation of sleeping space. Silently she padded across the room and reached out a hand to his shoulder. For a moment she hesitated, some of her instincts telling her not to do it and to let it just be. Biting her lip she touched his shoulder and shook it gently. He grumbled something before opening his eyes, propping himself up on his elbow and looked at her confused. 

“What…?”

Before the new found courage left her, she shoved the bowl forward, which only caused a more confused look on his face. 

“You left your food. I supposed you were still hungry” she blurted out looking wide eyed at him who seemed speechless. His jaw clenched and unclenched while staring at her. Suddenly he started laughing, “Is that how you apologise?”

She frowned. This was not... what she had expected? Just that didn’t really fit into the picture of what she had thought, would happen. Biting her lip she watched him continuing laughing. This had been a bad idea, she should leave and wait. Shifting slightly she looked to the other room and looked back to him.   
“You know this was the most pathetic apology try I have ever seen.”

Did he really have to rub it into her face? Jerk. Though he was right that this was a poor attempt, but she didn’t know how else to, the words wouldn’t come. 

“Look it is easy to say ‘sorry’”, he continued, “just say it and we can go to sleep.”

He didn’t understand, she couldn’t do it. The words just would get stuck in her throat. Maybe it would work now? She opened her mouth again, but nothing came out. Why by Sithis didn’t this work? He only seemed to become more amused by the second. Was she that pathetic that she couldn’t even apologise like she had run through her mind before? She knew she was wrong to ask him that since she didn’t know him that well and he had been kind to her. Just why didn’t it work? The bowl in her hands shook ever so slightly, was she shivering? He leaned forward and took the bowl from her hands and sighed “I suppose that is all I get from you, but seriously get more practice in apologizing” and threw her a meaningful look.   
Couldn’t he see that she had tried?   
“Look I..”  
“Spare me, we need sleep so come here and shut up”, he laid back down and closed his eyes again. 

She stood there as if someone had poured ice cold water over her. Really? Admittedly, that has been a pathetic attempt. How dare he though to just brush it away and act so dismissively? Angry wasn’t really a word for how she felt, more like a beaten dog. Like one she slinked away slowly, slipped into the kitchen and outside. Cool air hit her and she instantly wished she had a cloak, maybe Belethor had one to spare… Thinking of it, she needed to put together a list for Belethor, after all she did need new hair dye and depending where they would go they will also need cloaks. 

Did the family, may they rest in Sovngarde, have some scrap of paper? She’d also need a stick, the wheat sticks outside will do, but where would she get the juice of a juniper berry? She could try with the juice of an apple, but she didn’t know how invisible it would be on the paper in the end. Furthermore, she needed ink, cloaks could be used as a shopping list and the hair dye and whatever they still needed. Then she would need to ask Erador to finalise the list. But that could wait.

Where were the wheat balls? Sometimes she wished she had the sight of a Khajiit, right now she was currently bumping into plants, tools and little hills. Grumbling she rounded the house and thought about casting a light, but dismissed it as too obvious in the darkness. Were those torch lights on the way? They were also approaching. Instinctively she dove behind a stone wall and observed the torches as they moved in the darkness. As soon as they were somewhat closer she got a glance at the people holding them. There were a lot of them, in armor as well… was that a tail? A caravan! The usual caravan doing its rounds, maybe she could get them to walk with them.

She jumped up and ran to them waving her arms. The distinct sound of weapons being drawn was heard, but that didn’t deter her as she sprinted across the field towards them. 

“This one is too eager” a velvety voice remarked dryly.   
“You know about the conquest of Whiterun?”  
“Of course, business this one has?”  
Business, she forgot she had to talk business with them. Tugging her tunic up again, her chest had decided to push upwards from the running, she thought about it. What did they have to offer. 

“Yes, I have”, improvisation then, “we have a roof for the night to offer and some food on the shelves.”   
“We have food as well”, deadpanned someone from behind. Sweat started to form on her forehead.   
“But the Stormcloaks have the city, don’t you think you will have some troubles by them?”  
“And this one has an idea?”  
“I could go in and ask around who is still ready to do business.”  
“And this one wants something in return?”  
“Yes, do you have juniper berries and scrap of paper?”  
“Ohh, yes we do, something needs to be hidden?”  
“You could say that, but do come in, we need to discuss some things.”

They followed her silently and inside she saw about six of them with huge pouches. The most decorated sat down on the table and took out a leather bag and a scroll of paper.

“Paper and juniper berries, need ink as well?”  
“Yes please.”  
“30 gold.”  
“Hang on… paper, juniper berries and ink aren’t that uncommon, 15.”  
“25, as friendship price.”  
“20” this was the most fun in haggling.   
“22 and no lower.”

Twenty two she could do and took out the septims and counted them into the palm. She needed to talk to Erador quickly. 

“I think the space here is enough to sleep?” she asked while standing up scooping the acquired goods into her arms.   
“Enough for us.” 

As they went on setting themselves up for a good night’s rest, she stepped into the sleeping room where Erador had sat up and looked at her. She knew she had some explaining to do, but he could wait for a bit. Walking to a cupboard and put the goods into and took a deep breath. 

“Why are there people here?” he asked harshly. It was understandable he was suspicious and that she had gone behind his back. 

“They are a Khajiit caravan and I needed some supplies for tomorrow so we can communicate without someone immediately seeing it, also if we come with them, we would be less suspicious as a lonely travelling pair.”  
“Why didn’t you ask me?”  
“If I had run back to you and asked you, they would be now in Whiterun and we would have missed a perfect disguise opportunity.”

The ever present frown came again and she knew that he was thinking of it. 

“Sounds alright to me, we will try. I have my reservations though about it. What if we are barred from entering?”  
“Then we need to improvise” she yawned “but I know about this and if that comes to pass, I need to get a message in” with that she pointed to the paper “and that is why I bought this.”

He swung his legs out of the bed and walked over. “What do you need those for?”

“The juice of the juniper berries can be used as invisible ink and with holding it over a candle can make it visible. We can smuggle a note in like that. Speaking of which, we need to think what we need to get from Belethor as well.”  
“What does he have?”  
“Potions, soul gems and I was thinking of cloaks for us, Skyrim is cold even when it is going towards Spring and Summer and we are in the autumn season.”  
“We have our armor, that can keep us warm.”  
“This cold is really penetrating, believe me, I have witnessed three winters and a cloak over armour can save your life if you get into a blizzard.”

Shee looked up to Erador and he seemed to be thinking again. 

“How much are they with him?”  
“Let me worry about that, I just need to have access to my funds in my house. We need to be go back inside again.”  
“You think that would be possible with tighter security and people will observe the house.”

He had a point there. Looked like she needed to sneak in again in the darkness and be swift. Far too risky if they needed to be in and out very fast.   
“I will find a way, you don’t need to come with me.”  
His head snapped back to her and scowled at it. 

“No, if you are caught and I am somewhere else in the city I cannot help you. I have told you that you are valuable to them as well. The Dragonborn is critical towards morale.”

Was she? Sometimes it felt so distant to be the Dragonborn. However, she highly doubted the Stormcloak movement would welcome her with open arms. She really should tell him and get it over with. Just she couldn’t. Why was it so difficult to trust him? Oh right, she only knew him for like two days at most now. 

“Ayera…” he seemed to hesitate but continued “I know that you tried to apologise for before and I started laughing at it. Just, I was so angry at you for thinking I was someone like that” he grimaced “maybe I didn’t really treat you that way, but… I am sorry for laughing at you.”

He lifted his arms and put them on her shoulders and drew her closer. Was he hugging her? Yes he was came the conclusion a second later when he did. At first hesitantly Ayera also lifted her arms around his midriff and hugged him back. 

It stopped as fast as it happened and he returned to his snarky self again when he commented “You know the tunic is down again.”

If someone could have died from mortification, Ayera would be stone dead by now as she snatched up the hem up again which had dangerously dropped below the acceptable line. This time his chuckle wasn’t something she needed to feel angry about. 

“We should get to bed, tomorrow is going to be a long day, especially if you need to write the list before leaving.”

Nodding, Ayera let herself fall onto the furs on the bed and closed her eyes and felt the furs dip slightly as he moved beside her. They were too tired for propriety and after all they did need to keep up the façade of a married couple. Though, they shouldn’t get too much into it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry people, report is finally submitted. I cannot stand hearing about algae and their photosynthesis anymore*shudders*.  
> Anyways, sorry for the delay. I was editing this chapter myself. The person who volunteered proof reading dropped out on me, so it took way longer than I hoped. Any mistakes, any plot holes. Please point it out. Otherwise, please review/comment. I do want to know if people like where I am going with this.

Morning came too quickly for her taste and she botched the list twice by once getting the mixture of the juniper berries and water wrong and the secret writing was too visible and then she fell asleep while writing the next batch. Unfortunately she couldn’t really dunk her head into ice cold water to wake herself up. The dye would come off and she couldn’t really let Erador know now that she had been lying all along and she would die. Hair dye, invisibility potions and filled soul gems were added to the second secret list and two warm cloaks, food and fire stones on the seen one. Ri’saad, who seemed to be the one doing all the business in the caravan, had been itching to get moving so they could set up their tents and get trading going as quickly as possible. 

Erador and she prepared in silence, hiding their armor, her large bow and his sword in large cloth bundles, courtesy of Ri’saad as well in exchange for another few septims which left Ayera to count her remaining with a creased eyebrow. She was down on her last fifty from her usual armor pouch and to pay Belethor for the items she needed to ransack her funds in Breezehome. All in due time she kept thinking while she was strapping her dagger on her back with some leather bindings. Khajiits had the best advice on these in exchange for septims. Though, that was how they operated. 

Stepping out in the chilly autumn weather a tense silence fell over the group as they approached Whiterun in the remnants of the morning fog. Usually the grey silhouettes made Ayera happy to be back home, now it only gave her dread. Ulfric probably sat on the throne now where Balgruuf used to sit and the former somewhere in a musty old prison cell. Or… he already was executed. She swallowed a big lump down. Not that she particularly cared about him, but he had made her a Thane and indirectly a new home. Well, she spectacularly failed to keep it that way and Ulfric sat on that throne now. 

“You do know that if you keep frowning the guards will suspect and have an easy target to taunt?” Turning her head she saw Erador leaning down towards her. They had to braid some of his hair to conceal some bits of his ears, but the skin wasn’t disguisable. That was her greatest worry, what if someone refused them entry just for him being a high elf? Catching herself sidetracking, she smiled up at him. Seemed to satisfy him for now and he turned to Khayla with whom he was comparing sword techniques to. How in Oblivion did he manage to be so calm? They were about to do an infiltration into Whiterun for Sithis’ sake!  
The trek itself was uneventful except for encountering some lone patrols outside the walls, where Ayera always had a hand near her hip in order to get to her dagger quickly should the situation call for it. Erador had done the same with his borrowed dagger he had borrowed from Khayla. In the end all they got were passing glances, maybe some longer stares, but no one stopped them. The battle field itself had nearly vanished, though she could still see the charred remains of wooden constructions and some odd arrow still stuck in the earth. At least the bodies had been cleared she thought relieved thinking of the awful smell they would have by now. Some of the battlements had holes or some of the bricks were missing. 

The banners were blue as well. Stormcloak blue, didn’t fit Whiterun at all, was her absent thought, the yellow was much more fitting for the centre of trade. Yellow was much more cheerful. 

They reached the first arch before the drawbridge and were stopped, as Ayera had expected. 

“You have to stay outside the city!” came the yell of an archer as he pointed a hooked arrow at Ri’saad. Ayera instinctively grabbed Erador’s forearm and squeezed. If he thought it was too tight, he didn’t show it. Maybe he meant the Khajiits? Just risk it she thought and tugged him along. She only made it to the arch when a sword pressed into her throat. Then she was yanked back hard. The soldier who possessed sword had an angry expression and spit hit her face when he yelled at her “No one enters the city, filthy elf!”

Blinking, she opened her mouth, trying to produce a calm tone “But we are merchants, we always were allowed to go in.”

“Not now anymore, stay outside and see who will make business with you now, whore!” he shot a look at her chest. Her hands shot up to cover up the neckline, which had shifted down again. A gentle squeeze on her shoulder deterred her attention. Erador had a tight expression and said “Sir, we have done nothing wrong.”

“Well, you elves are always up to something. But not with my city.” 

Her back straightened out. His city? His city?! How dare he call it his city, he had just conquered a day ago. Unfortunately she couldn’t use her dagger here, otherwise he would be dead already. Another squeeze. What in Oblivion was he trying to tell her?

“I apologise sir, we meant no disrespect.”  
“Keep a tighter leash on your wife, who knows who she has been sleeping with.”  
This time his squeeze was painfully tight and his jaw was clenched. Looked like they had to get a message another way. Well, didn’t hurt to play the dumb wife again. 

“Sir, can you please tell Belethor that we have his delivery? He had been waiting for it for a month now. “ Widening her eyes she hoped the innocent and naïve look came through. Also, she tugged down the neckline ever so slightly. Astrid taught her that, use a man’s parts down there if necessary. The results were a brightly flushed face a stuttered,

“The Breton?”  
“Yes sir” she nodded fast.  
He seemed to falter slightly and then consented even if for a tiny bit.  
“Fine, but you two stay outside, we will have our eyes on you. Who is asking for him?”  
“Ityera.” One of her aliases.  
“Fine.”

Once they were out of ear shot and back to the Khajiit caravan again, Ayera kicked the ground and twisted herself out of Erador’s grip. She needed to think. Belethor will recognize the name, she used it sometimes for the shadier dealings and he needed someone not connected to Whiterun. Hopefully, he could get them in. Or if not then they needed to scale the walls, which is far too risky. 

One of the Khajiits was chuckling at them, as they walked back to their tents, looking dejected. Hopefully, the guards shift ended soon or he sent someone in to let Belethor know. She and Erador had sat down in the tent where Ri’saad sat at the front. He wasn’t pleased how the conversation had turned out in the end.  
“How does getting the list in, give us our pouches back?” was his first angry question which she had waved away at that time.  
Now, there was a sulking elf opposite her and a headache on its way. Rubbing her temples, she looked at him sitting there crossed armed and a dark look on him. 

“Look, I am trying to think.”  
She only received a disbelieving look, “Thinking? You didn’t think of this, did you?”

So he was pissed she hadn’t taken this into account this morning or last evening. Oh great… did he think of it? No. Well, now she had a better idea what to do now, the guards were high on their victory, she could hear that from the one saying “his city”. This could lead to some mistakes, as he had been distracted by her subtly tugging down the neckline. Not that anyone noticed except the guy. Sometimes men were just too oblivious. 

“Well, I did manage to get him to tell Belethor….”  
“If he even does that” snarky bugger.  
“Not when I pulled my manipulations.”  
She was met with only a questioning stare.  
“I played the naïve, innocent and ‘whore’ to him. Haven’t you seen his face at the end?”  
“Yes, I thought that… Wait! What did you do?”

Oh my, oblivious. 

“You know, that tunic has its advantages of distracting men” accompanied with a wink.  
He only stared at her chest for a moment “Really? Selling yourself to the guard?”  
Did he just think that of her? A cheap whore?  
“No, but teasing does help a lot in my experience.”  
“Experience in what?”  
“Business talks unless from a completely different race. Then the chances of being found unattractive are much higher.”  
“But still… A Breton is much higher than those Nords.”

That was interesting perspective. Going from lowly Breton and deserving more than a Nord in just… how long has it been? Four days?  
“Still below us elves of course.” There he went and ruined the moment. No matter, they at least can talk civilly at the moment.  
Ayera could only roll her eyes at his antics. 

“Anyways, we will have to wait for Belethor to show his face or get a message through.”  
“And then?”  
“We can plan further after that. At the moment he is our best hope to get in without too much suspicion.”  
“Not anyone else?”  
“No, some of them are too risky. Not that I don’t trust them, just some might want to continue their lives undisturbed.”  
“So that is not trust. Exactly the opposite” he deadpanned. No, it was trust! But she won’t argue with him about it. Paranoid elf.  
“Forget it. We still need to wait.”  
“I suppose we have to do that.”

“Since you both finally stopped arguing. How about you do something?” Ri’saad quipped up from the entrance. Travelling with Khajiits was expensive after all… even if it was just doing chores with them. They were tasked finding some firewood and talk to the local farmers about some deals for Ri’saad. Not many were left, Pelagia was still there, but he only did one deal and that was tools for a sack of apples. Not much overall. Then chopping the firewood, Ayera had had to persuade the owner of the Honeybrew meadery to give her some logs. Given the fact that he considered himself to be a fence and Thieves guild members usually got a discount, he was surprisingly horrendous in his prices. “I am sorry, but war makes everything more expensive” the sleezy little rat had laughed into her face. He must have known that she couldn’t really beat him to a pulp now, because of several soldiers present, only out of earshot. Her funds were disappearing too fast for her tastes. Wait until you are back in your house again, there is enough. She should send a note to Brynjolf to deal with this little fraud, she was above those now. Then there was the chopping itself. Just she couldn’t lift the axe, physical strength wasn’t her forte. 

“You can’t lift the axe?” Erador had laughed, but took the axe of her and did the chopping for her as well. 

“Never really had to, daggers and bows only require less strength than a sword.”  
“I noticed. Thought you might have had more strength.” He heaved and split the logs in half with one clean cut.  
“Not really, bow, dagger and magic tend to keep the opponent away.”  
“Hm, that is why you wear light armor, more flexibility of movement right?”

“Yes.” Another split log fell out and she arranged it to a neat pile, “You go the traditional route? Sword, heavy armor and magic?”  
“If you hadn’t noticed I would be very embarrassed” another log, a mischievous grin to her. She couldn’t get angry with that and just laughed lightly.  
“Don’t get too excited, had to somehow get around you in the battle.”  
“Hey, you just danced back and forth while I was doing most of the work!”  
“I kept most of them away from you”, she teased back and stocked another log away. Then they fell back into a comfortable silence. All the while listening for someone calling for them. 

That call didn’t come until late evening. They were sitting around the fireplace, eating a stew while chatting with the Khajiits. Ri’saad was telling about some dealings with the guards and a new agreement with salt deliveries. All in all she was satisfied with it, whereas Ayera only sat brooding stirring with her spoon. Just when she was about to give up for that day, the guard from that morning returned on the battlement and waved her over. She practically jumped over with Erador shoving the last spoon in and sprinting after her. 

Belethor awaited them behind the arch with the ever present smile on his face.  
“Ah, Ityera, a pleasure to see you again.” Falling into the part of a long standing business partner, she smiled back, “It has only been what? Two months, Belethor.”  
“Who is that strapping young fellow beside you?”  
“Oh my husband, I told you last time I had someone waiting for me.”  
“Ahh, yes, yes, of course. I trust you have the supplies I have ordered back then.”  
“I have them here”, she pointed to her pouch, which she had filled with some salt from Ri’saad, not that she knew. Some glimmer of hope came up, could they finally enter the city?

“Now, let’s go to my office, so we can discuss the terms for this…” and Belethor was promptly interrupted by the guard standing next to them “No, they cannot enter. Orders are that no one is allowed to leave or enter.”  
For Sithis’ sake, really? Now she really wished there were no other guards. One dead one, would rouse some suspicions, but they would have been in and out before that.

“That is unfortunate indeed, well looks like I have to wait for the next supply run coming tomorrow, they are allowed, right?” Hang on…  
The guard looked confused for a moment before nodding slowly. 

“Why don’t you young love birds give the kind people from the supply run my order and I will give you your money when they come out?” a tiny wink and with that Belethor sauntered off accompanied by the guard who shot them a condescending look. Once they were alone, Erador grabbed her and pulled her away. Around the corner of the battlements and she was slammed into the brick wall, deja-vu in a sense.  
“What a brilliant fucking idea! Now we don’t have any way in except scaling the wall”, he hissed into her ear while tightening the hold on her shoulders. He certainly had a temper that was for sure, she thought wincing. 

“Thinking isn’t your strong suit either. Two of your plans have failed! Unacceptable.”  
Rolling her eyes she decided to let him in on a little secret. Belethor had dropped a hint how to get in without too much hassle; at least she hoped that it would be. 

“Erador…”  
“Sometimes I am even thinking whether you actually can pull anything off!” That hurt. He was angry, forgivable in these circumstances.  
“Just let me….”  
“Don’t mention the fact that you are blatantly lying to me and I cannot figure out what.”  
Oh now that one was true. Didn’t think he would still stubbornly cling to that idea.  
“Please….”  
“Not to forget the fact that I actually thought you were better than the other Bretons!”

The words to formulate another sentence died in her throat as what he said punched her in the gut. Wide eyed she stared at him. Why was this even so bad for her? Not like she really liked him… or did she? No, she didn’t. Something pricked at the corners of her eyes, was she going to cry? No no, please no, he wasn’t worth it. His face fell as soon as he had said that. 

“Ayera, look I am…”  
“No, it is fine” at least she could still control her voice she thought relieved and blinked rapidly. He was right, her plans had failed twice in a row. Though what had he meant with the last statement? Better than the rest of the Bretons? Breathing in deeply through her nose, she opened her mouth again to talk, “Belethor has given us another opening. He mentioned a supply run and those will be let in. We just need to hijack this one and then we are in.”  
“Ayera…”  
“Hope that…”

Suddenly she was yanked forward and was crushed in a hug with the sentence dying on her tongue. Confused she twisted her neck to look up on him.  
“Trying to say sorry alright, I was angry.”  
“Alright” she breathed into the soft cloth of his tunic.  
“Also, we should try and see where it is coming from, because we can’t hijack it just before the gates.”  
“Do you have an idea where it can come from?”  
“He said that they will be there tomorrow, so they have already set up camp now, not much use sneaking in now, but once they get moving we need to be able to get into a carriage” she furthered the thought. 

“Yeah but do you know where they can come from?”  
“Logically seen, the supply run can’t come from the West or North, since the West is Imperial and the North doesn’t have the resources for that. It will be from the road to Riften and Windhlem.”  
“So where do you think they would be now?”  
“I don’t know, there aren’t really any good spots for rest…except, Valtheim towers, they had been cleared years ago” by her and Lydia “and are safe now to travel past. They might have set up camp there.”  
“Can we reach it now?”  
“Yes, to do it quickly we need to go through a bit of the river.”  
“Looks like we need to be in armor for this?”  
“No, not what I think would be best, we need to blend in after we get into the city. We will need to leave them with the Khajiits, they still stay here for another three days. We will be in and out in a day at most.”

“What if they recognize us and hunt us?”  
“Provided that happens, we will have a few invisibility potions to last at that point, I haven’t gotten the hang of the spell yet.”  
“I have, but it is very energy consuming for me and not something I want to use while being pursued.”  
“No I suppose, but it might come necessary, then sit in the tent hidden…”  
“Don’t you think that they will search the tent as well?”  
“Not if we sneak in during the night while hiding in the plains.”  
“Don’t you think you are oversimplifying?”  
“Well, bringing in our armors is as stupid.”  
“I am not really thinking of bringing our armor in, but hiding in the tent is risky.”  
“Maybe, but bringing it into the plains will get them stolen.”  
“And you think they are as safe with the Khajiits?”  
“Well, they know that it would ruin their business if word came out that they stole the goods.”  
“Potentially, just think of it, would Ri’saad still cover us if he knew?”  
“What says if he has to know? We sneak in during the night and wait until they are not looking and we start walking away towards Morthal.”  
“I still think this is too simple of a plan.”  
“Might be, but there are a lot of factors depending how it goes in Whiterun itself.”

Erador released her and Ayera felt the cold evening breeze against her. They really needed those cloaks. Autumn was half way over and the rest heat of the summer was slowly waning. 

“Looks like we have to go to those Valtheim Towers you said they might be at.”  
“I believe they are there.”  
A small smirk and Ayera followed suit, then what she did even surprised herself a little bit. She hugged him back again mumbling “We do make a strange pair.” His body had stiffened only for a split second before hugging her back, this time gentler. “That we do.”  
“So are we friends now?”  
“I guess.”  
“Guess?”  
“Yeah.”  
She let it drop, he probably won’t give the answer she was actually looking for. 

“I am only hugging you because you are warm”, she mumbled in his tunic. His chest started vibrating with a chuckle, “Suppose I am furnace compared to your cold toes.”  
“Cold toes?”  
“Oh yes, when we shared the bed I woke up at one point with your toes in my back, I swear you dipped them into ice water before sticking them under my tunic” he had a mischievous twinkle in his eye, but Ayera still felt her face start to burn up and buried her face deeper in the tunic. He smelled good she noticed. 

“Do you really think we can leave our weapons and armor with the Khajiits?”  
Ayera sighed, why did he have such reservations? But fine, they could get a crate and bury it nearby.  
“We can bury them nearby, but I would rather have them with the Khajiits, we can’t lose them easily then.”  
“If we were to bury them, would someone dig them up?”  
“Potentially, I would rather pay the extra coins for safe keeping. The Khajiits here have seen worse than us hiding our weapons in their tent a little longer. In all honesty, I believe they are counting on us getting in.”

He looked at her with a frown. 

“Business isn’t as good as it used to for them and us getting in could mean they can get wares off through us.”  
That seemed to spark an idea with him “We could offer that in return for them looking after our stuff, we can scout the situation and maybe get some people out and trade?”

“We can try and maybe warn them that things can get sour.”  
“Well, we should get to it then, we still need to get there in this freezing cold.”  
“You think we need all night to get there? We need the sleep after all.”  
“Hm, we could disguise ourselves again and say we are another few travelers just resting there. Nothing too suspicious of it.”  
Erador looked at the sun which was very low on the horizon already.  
“I am not entirely happy about it; we will be going in the dark through a river.”  
“We have to risk it” Ayera shrugged.  
“I know” he relented and let her go. 

There she stood, thinking what she had done. She had hugged him, someone she had sworn to hate and actually thought he was good enough. He had been kind, maybe she was too hard on him. Maybe not, she knew him too little still. Shaking her head she made her way to Ri’saad with the deal proposal. Amor and weapons put safely away, except for her dagger, in return for some client scouting. 

Fortunately, Ri’saad had agreed to it quite happily and Ayera suspected she wanted to know as well what was going on inside. Information was worth lots after all. But he hadn’t asked for it, so she would have to pay as well. Licking her lips after the successful deal, she looked for Erador and found him sitting on a stone, looking to the East where he thought the Towers would be. 

“It is getting dark, we should get moving” he said, not turning to look at her as she approached him from behind.  
“We should, but going through the river should be a short cut.”  
“You sure we have to? Rivers in the dark are treacherous. I don’t want to haul you out of it and die from hypothermia or drowning.”

Ayera only rolled her eyes, the river wasn’t that deep on that part. River had been a very vague term, it was sometimes deep and sometimes shallow. It was too big to be a stream and too many mudcrabs. 

They had to pick up a fast pace in order to have as much remaining light as possible. Across the bridge, towards the Loreius farm again, but at some point Ayera left the path with Erador following her closely behind.  
Lavender swayed gently in the cool breeze while she stomped through the grass, while looking for the gentle slope she had in memory where going down was less hazardous than normally. Lydia, the thought constricted her throat, but she willed it away, not now, had shown the small slope to her in the first few days as Thane and Housecarl. It had been one of those insufferable hot summer days and they wanted to go somewhere where they could bathe without anyone interrupting with the heavy scent of lavender in the air. Though right now it was a chilly breeze and Ayera tugged the thin clothe of her tunic tighter across her shoulders. Cloaks were really necessary. 

“It is still fairly warm for it being half way to winter” he suddenly spoke up.  
“It is, but it will get cold very fast and if you travel further North, it would be snowing already. Summer isn’t too bad though”  
“I was always taught that Skyrim was in a perpetual winter state.”  
“Who told you that?”  
“The tutors at home implied it when we had to study the countries making up Tamriel. What they said made it sound so cold and when I arrived here, it was surprisingly warm except for when I had to walk to Dawnstar to catch up with you.”

Ayera stepped around a boulder looking down, but didn’t see the usual tree stump marking the spot.  
“It is still early for the full brunt of winter, but we are getting the chilly breezes from the Phantom sea already which will dominate over the ones from Hammerfell or Elsweyr.”  
“I see, how do you know this? We usually have this kind of study if the family is high standing or rich enough.”

So the Thalmor were about the same as in Skyrim then. Education was hard to come by and those who could afford it usually had a tutor at home or some had opened small schools for horrendous fees. At least she was able to read when waking up on that cart to Helgen, because she couldn’t have afforded it. 

“I read books. Sometimes I wonder where I came from and looked into some descriptions of high Rock, Hammerfell or Black Marsh. Couldn’t find any scrolls on Summerset Isles, that why I asked you.”  
“Oh…”  
He stopped briefly. “Since when were you interested in Summerset Isles?”

She opened her mouth briefly, then snapped it shut. He did not know she was half high elf. How could she forget.  
“I… met a few high elves.” It was a poor excuse given he frowned at that.  
“We should get moving again”

She didn’t wait for an answer and marched forward again. This time she found the stump she had been looking for. Putting a foot on the first stone going down, she balanced her weight backwards. The stones had been hers and Lydia’s idea to make the descent and ascent from the river easier. There was only one thing she had not taken into account though, the stones were slippery and as soon as she stepped on the last one, she slipped and fell forward into the river. Well, she would have if the man behind her didn’t catch her by the neck of her tunic. 

“Thought this was going to happen” he pulled her right up and put her on her feet again on the bank. Water sloshed against her boots. If she had fallen in, then with wet clothes, she could have died of hypothermia or left noticeable traces if they hid in a cart. Unfortunately, they also had to wade through some muddy parts before rounding the rocky river bent opening up to the view of the bridge and the Valtheim Towers. 

“That’s it?”  
“Yeah, thought it was further away if I am honest. My memory must have misremembered something.”  
Erador only shrugged.  
“No matter, we have more time to plan then. I’d suggest to scout for now.”  
“And I suggest cleaning our boots, they are muddy and dirty, they will leave traces.”  
“You really think the cart is going to be clean?”  
“Not really, but adding foot shaped mud prints will raise suspicion and the guards usually look over the wares fleetingly and those will make them turn everything upside down.”  
“Usually? What if they do regardless?”  
“How long can you hold the invisibility spell?”  
“Depends, at the most maybe a minute. It is very energy consuming and needs nearly all of my concentration, so if it is broken, the spell will drop.”  
“So you could hold it for a while they are searching?”  
“Yes I could, but after that I would need rest and quite a lot of it.”  
“I suppose that is the best we can do in that situation.”

In the distance Ayera saw the distinct glow of a camp fire and shadows moving around. Probably guards moving around while the traders themselves were probably still eating or getting ready to sleep. 

“Maybe wait a bit more. Do you see the wagons?”  
Erador next to her leaned forward and squinted into the distance.  
“Yes I do, they are situated at one of the walls, but the camp fire is in front of it. Do you think we can sneak past them?”

Ayera began to think again, they could if they stuck to the river bank and moved extremely quietly around the tower, and then they could get in there unseen. Just the problem was if they were caught the whole plan would backfire. But approaching them would raise suspicion most likely and that is not what they could afford at the moment. 

“We would have to stick to the opposite river bank and we will need to cross now, the water is pretty deep further ahead.”  
“And it cleans our boots in the process as well” he furthered the thought. So he did take it to heart what she had said. Looking to her right, she only saw the black expanse that was the water. To the eye which saw for the first time it looked deep no doubt. Just there it was sometimes ankle deep or knee deep. They had to go through anyways and then clean the boots as soon as possible. Also hypothermia could set in if they didn’t dry as well, though a good flame spell should do the rest. If they could do it unseen in the darkness. They really shouldn’t risk any sliver of suspicion, however.  
The water itself was freezing cold and Ayera nearly jumped back in surprise. 

“Do I need to carry you?” came his amused comment.

“No, not necessary, only cold” Ayera bit back while bracing herself for the cold water. It cost her some determination to step back into the water and stay there. Gritting her teeth she waded deeper into the water while holding out her arms to balance herself. The currents were still strong even in the shallow water. At least she didn’t slip…. She reached the deepest spot after about ten steps and the water went up to her knees already. Drying the clothes with flames was out of question now she decided now. Setting her pants on fire wasn’t really on her agenda when trying to get into a supply cart unseen. Turning around she saw Erador stalking through the water. Fortunately for him it only reached his calves in the middle, why couldn’t she have grown taller? Certainly had its disadvantages in climbing and being patronized by the taller Nords. When she finally reached the bank, the first instinct she had was shaking her boots which felt so heavy. Leather boots were alright if the water didn’t go further than knee height, but it had gone down through the inside. How fantastic… The only positive thing now was the boots being clean now just dripping wet. 

“I really should have carried you” Erador quipped up when stepping out from the river. Smart ass, she had noticed that too. In the dark it was a waste of energy really to give him a death glare though. 

“Would you shut up? They might hear us!” she hissed at him while looking at the blurry shadows moving around the fire. He only held up his hands. Good, at least he realized it was an inappropriate time to joke around. Concentrating back on the camp fire in the distance, she followed the movements. Some went into the little tower, but she couldn’t see anyone moving on the bridge, the rooms in the first tower were small so there weren’t a lot there then. Was it just one wagon unlike the usual three coming from Riften? They had to go nearer for her to establish whether they….What was he doing?!

Erador had simply grabbed her forearm and dashed across the river bank with her struggling with her much shorter legs. Did he have any idea what he was currently doing? Blowing their damn cover! Idiot. What if they were seen? If this failed, then… she’d rather not think of it. Resisting would make them even likelier to be discovered. That bastard probably couldn’t wait any longer. He will hear what she has to say about this. Unfortunately they were a team and were stuck until she could finally stop being a massive coward. Just running around like that will make him question her more than he already was. But this made her want to yell and scream at him… or at least slap him. 

The light got nearer and Ayera’s heart picked up and she started running through several scenarios which could happen. What if they were discovered and attacked? Or… if it was all a ploy by Ulfric himself? No, that couldn’t be, Ulfric was just a dumb little sucker. Well, he managed to conquer Whiterun and raise a rebellion… maybe not that dumb, but still she hated him. 

He dragged her along the bank towards the tower’s back and by miracle and Ayera vowed to pray more often to Sithis if this went off without a hitch. To her big surprise, she was dragged past the first guard and behind the tower without being detected. Then they were behind the tower and she could only see the light reflected from the ground and the shadows moving around. The stones were cool underneath her fingers and she didn’t dare to move her feet now lest the sloshing of water would be heard. Silly, you already moved your feet in their proximity and they haven’t noticed! Well, you could never be too cautious. That lucky mer, too lucky for his own good. Shaking her head she turned towards him pressed tightly against the bricks. He only laid a finger against his lips. Really? Did he really need to tell her to not speak? She wasn’t that stupid, well mostly she wasn’t. The carriage as he had said was around the other side, so she twisted towards that side and attempted to creep around Erador. Before she could however go around him, his arm shot out and rooted her to the place by holding on her shoulders. Why did he do that? Oh… a shadow grew bigger, someone was approaching. Oh kriff... On instinct she pressed herself closer to him, not caring that all of her was pressed against him. Nor did he for that matter, their eyes were strained on the large shadow which wavered in the flickering light. Please, let it just turn around, Ayera prayed with closed eyes to Sithis with closed eyes. There is nothing here, nothing to see. 

“I swear I have heard something just now” a rough voice mused not a few meters away from them. Oh no….  
“Nah, it’s just ya hearing things, lass.” Yeah, listen to the other guard.  
“I swear I have heard a slight rustling down there.”  
“Rustling? Eh, there is a river bank down there and that rustling was probably just a critter.”  
“I do not like this especially not since Ulfric, may Talos praise him, freed Whiterun from that weakling jarl.” 

Ayera had to fight the urge down to vomit. Some people had nearly as much enthusiasm about the movement as Ulfric probably himself. 

“Even if, any resistance is probably still forming and not many know of our supply shipment. The last news I had gotten was the city was on lockdown.”  
“Still what of other scum? Bandits? Thieves?”

A loud snort came from their other side and both of them unconsciously pressed themselves closer to the wall with Erador bringing her closer in order to not have a suspicious bump in the wall if someone were to look around the corner. 

“They haven’t roamed the area for a year now. Why go near the city the Dragonborn lives? From what I have heard they had been chased out.”  
“The Dragonborn, ever seen the one?”  
“I believe it is a woman, looks Breton to me, but I couldn’t see her ears to determine that. Could be a Nord as well.” Oh her disguise seemed to make her identity ambiguous.  
“A woman? From what I have heard it was a Nord.”  
“From whom? I have seen her with my own eyes.”  
“Ulfric, he doesn’t lie.”  
“Then I suppose he is right, but that doesn’t mean I am still convinced it is a woman.”

Why would Ulfric tell merchants that the Dragonborn was a Nord man? What could he possibly gain from this? Her frown was met with Erador’s who look just confused, but couldn’t voice it. 

“Oh yeah? You dare question Ulfric?”  
“Now now, lass, I am not doing such thing, just stating that I saw someone who was addressed as the Dragonborn once and it was a woman.”  
“Oh yeah? Anyone can say that. Maybe Ulfric is the Dragonborn since he can use the Voice.”  
“So can the greybeards and it wasn’t Ulfric who had been summoned.”  
“Maybe, but I think the dragonborn is a Nord like in the legends.”

Were they going to continue discussing like that? Ayera couldn’t press her nose into his chest for all night. A certain shout, only a whisper could create a distraction so they could reach the wagon and be done with this, just Erador might hear it. Not worth it she assessed in the end and hoped they stop talking. Finally the shadow of the one guard moved and Ayera let out a silent sigh of relief and relaxed and eased up from her pressing against him. She moved past Erador and back to the wall and edged to the edge of where the light cone started. Should she risk peeking around the bent? Bending low she moved her head forward. For once she was lucky and no one was directly behind the bent looking her direction. Two well armored guards were seated around the camp fire and still bickering about the dragonborn’s real identity. Shifting her focus behind them and saw the cart they intended to hide in. 

A white cloth covered most of the wares, finally something working in their favour and Ayera released a silent breath of relief at the sliver of luck. The only problem right now was getting to the cart unnoticed. Not possible with them still sitting around and already alerted to some noise they mad made from before. She had known that just running up to it was the worst idea he had in all the time she had known him, well, the four days she had known him. A distraction could very well lead the guards to them, but how could they cause one? She didn’t have her bow with her to release an arrow somewhere into the darkness and make them investigate. Nor did she have any amazing conjuration skills… That’s it! She still could summon a familiar and… no that wouldn’t work, the distinct noise of the conjuration would be too loud to be able to hide and they were too close. To oblivion with this all… Looked like she had no choice but use the Thu’um. Something she had hesitated to use ever since she failed so badly with Lydia. What use is her being Dragonborn if she couldn’t even save her closest friend? How could she defeat Alduin then? Just now she needed to use it in order to get them in. Just so they could be very well on their way and look for the Dragonborn. Was it more to get her to find herself? Why was she even thinking this now? She really had to get a grip on herself sometimes.

Closing her eyes she concentrated on the words which started to appear in her mind. What were the words again? Zul…Mey… The other word wasn’t known to her yet. Ever since she avoided those word walls and her soul had felt heavy ever since. An exhilarating rush ran through her as the words manifested themselves in her throat ready to be released. Only the right moment now… 

Her head grew dizzy from the stored up energy ready to be released but she held it in, no shout but a whisper should escape, a distraction. Somewhere away from the cart, a subtle muttering from the darkness, something to make them go investigate. Her blood started surging and boiling, the dragon in her wanting to let the power out after a long time of no use. Focusing on a spot behind the cart she opened her mouth and the words surged forward in an inaudible whisper “Zul Mey…” As soon as the words left her lips, the energy vanished from her body, her soul felt empty and her blood pumped slower. Sacking against the wall, she looked to Erador who watched her from concerned eyes. Then…

“I think I have heard it again, just nearer” the female guard said.  
A rustling close to them was heard and Ayera heard the distinct sound of muttering from someone, not someone but the power of her Thu’um. The corner of her lips turned up slightly, she still could do it, but it consumed a lot of her energy. 

“Now I have heard it too” the distinct sound of a sword being drawn was heard and foot falls rushed past them investigating the apparent presence of a potential hostile nearby. 

As soon as those two disappeared into the darkness Erador grabbed her again, it was silly really that he did sometimes, but Ayera let him. Let him think he is the hero and less trouble. They dashed in a low crouch towards the cart. She instinctively looked around, but with their backs to the fire, she couldn’t see the two guards running around. That was bad, they needed to hurry up. Erador was fingering with the laces holding the coth to the wood of the cart. After four were loose he had a big enough space to crawl through. He looked in and lowered himself back to her level and whispered 

“There is enough space for us two, but I need to push some crates back. I will pull you in.” 

With that he climbed in before Ayera could voice any objections. She was smaller, surely she would be better for that task? Some scraping was heard and rummaging around. Hopefully he hurried up, she had no idea how long the guards would stay in the dark looking for the mysterious muttering. She didn’t have enough energy to stomach another shout. Well, she could, but she might faint and that would be counterproductive. Straining her ears she tried to block out Erador’s sorting around and listen to any sign of them returning. Nothing so far, but that means it could be that they were near. No, no, don’t panic, Sithis always had made sure she was alright in the end…. 

Then the scraping of wood on wood stopped “You can go in now” was whispered from above her. Finally. Going up from her low crouch she put her hands into the gap and were grasped by a pair of strong arms and was pulled in. Her hip hit the wood barrier hard and she winced at it, but was pulled forward still. She decided to crane her neck up and saw him lying on his back but half way up with half of his torso to pull her in. Then she was on top of him and fully in. 

Certainly more comfortable to lie in her own fur bed in Breezehome than on him. She looked down again to the opening, the cloth had fallen down again and lay directly on top of her. Could they lie side by side, because producing a bump in the cloth was the biggest sign post someone was in the cart. Erador seemed to think the same way and wiggled until she slid down his side and they faced each other and he wound an arm underneath her neck and another around her. Maybe it was more comfortable for him so she dismissed the gesture and any potential meaning it could have had. Now there was no bump, but this was really too close for her comfort. His breath hit her face and some strands of his hair tickled her forehead. She had fight down the urge to move her arms which were somewhere in between them to rectify that. This was madness. At least there no more bump in the cloth anymore. They wouldn’t be discovered unless they decided to lift the cloth up and check, but Ayera was pretty sure that they wouldn’t if they didn’t make a noise. 

The guards returned just as they had finally settled down enough to stay silent for a long time. Well, Erador had shown mercy and blown his hair out of the way and nothing was tickling her anymore. 

“I swear there was muttering!” the female desperately tried to justify the wild goose chase Ayera had sent them to. Thinking of it made Ayera bite her lip hard to not start giggling.  
“I know, lass. I heard it too. Maybe we are hearing ghosts by letting our paranoia get the better of us.”  
“Does that happen?”  
“Oh yeah, once….” 

And he rambled on about a story of the war between the Empire and the filthy elves as he so eloquently put it with the added remark that not all were bad, but only after they had proven trustworthy. Ayera only rolled her eyes at that which was met with an amused expression on Erador’s face. 

The night itself passed without major incidence, Ayera had had a near panic attack when someone started snoring and thought that Erador had given their position away, but it had been only one of the guards who had fallen asleep. She had fallen asleep later. Though, a light sleep and the smallest noise in the morning woke her up. Well only her actually, Erador was still out like a log and by the sounds of it only the guards were up, but groggy since the conversation was down to a minimum. She wanted to move so desperately, but her arms were trapped between her and his chest and her legs were entangled with his. Any movement would cause a noise. There was something hard pressing against her upper thigh, her foggy mind didn’t process what it was at first, but the realization made her flush a bright crimson. She had forgotten that this was something that happened to males in the morning, sometimes. Sanguine was probably laughing his arse off somewhere in Oblivion. Why do those awkward situations happen to only her? No matter, that was normal to happen according to Lydia. Next time they will sleep further apart, no discussion. He stirred slightly when she breathed out onto his nose. Not a gentle method, but he didn’t deserve a better one. Then his eyes opened and looked at her annoyed. Surely he would have given her a tongue lashing under other circumstances and he knew that. 

A loud clanging diverted their focus off each other and they heard the merchants and guards preparing to move out to the last part of the journey to Whiterun. And surely soon enough the cart started to shake and they were on their way, even slowly. Ayera had a hard time not to wince too loudly as they bounced over stones and her forehead collided with his and Erador had a pained expression on him after that accident. Otherwise, they tried not to make too much noise. Well they could only stare at each other since getting a nap now was impossible with being jolted around here and then. Later Ayera could bring his face into memory without thinking too much. 

“Halt!” someone cried and Ayera tensed up and the arm around her back tightened. They were at the gates. It was either to be discovered or not. The cart came to a halt and she heard the guards and the merchant talking. 

“Alright, you are clear to go in, but we need to check your wares first” Oh Sithis… She locked eyes with Erador who had a worried expression on his face. Then she was crushed to his chest, her nose uncomfortably trapped in his tunic and she had to breathe in hard to get any air. Then the cloth was yanked upwards and daylight hit her right eye as she saw a blurry figure of a guard looming over them. That was it, they would die now, she thought. But the guard just let the cloth fall down again and shout “All clear, everything is in order.” Did he not see them? Wait… wiggling her head and got a glimpse of Erador panting silently with a stream of sweat on his brow. Invisibility spell would cost him a lot he had mentioned yesterday and he had thrown one over them. 

Another jolt and they were moving again. They were in.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I managed to get myself writing this one sooner than I thought I would have it done. Thanks for all the kudos and the comment!  
> As always, please do leave a comment.

The cart had stopped jolting around which told Ayera there were within the city walls. For once she felt pity for Erador, he was breathing hard and she felt bad for him since the day was about to heat up for the last autumn days until it slowly eased into winter. He really needed a stamina potion and that fast. Maybe Arcadia for once let her into the shop for this kind of emergency after being gloriously kicked out after blowing up the alchemy station. Creasing her brow she cursed her lack of ideas to help him. Anything else would blow their cover and they would stop anytime near Belethor she hoped. A door opened nearby and the cart stopped, 

“Are you Belethor?”  
“Yes and I assume correctly you have my order.”  
“Of course, a Nord always keeps his words.”  
“Yeah, yeah, here is your gold you can be on your way until I have unloaded.”

The merchant Ayera presumed seemed to hesitate,  
“I would rather have you unload under supervision.”

“Is this because I am Breton?” Ayera only cringed at Belethor raising his voice. Please don’t attract attention.  
“No, no I assure this is not it.”  
“But it is, you see if you want to talk to Ulfric about any future deals then you need to hurry up, he is still in Dragonsreach dealing with petitions.” Ayera only gritted her teeth at this news. Damn Ulfric.  
“He is not open for trade talks in a minute?”  
“Haven’t you heard, the executions are in a while and I don’t think that there will be any negotiations until the next morning.””  
“Executions?”  
“You didn’t hear? Some of the more high profile resistors are being put to death this afternoon.”

Ayera slumped against Erador, so Balgruuf is going to die and who else? The Battle-borns? The whole court? Irileth, no, she was probably already dead considering she had sworn an oath to defend the Jarl with her life. Well, in all honesty she didn’t really know the Battle-Borns or the Grey-Manes, there had never really been the need to interact except business and listening to the lament of a mother about her missing son and freeing him for the promise of gold. Any gratefulness had diminished ever since Ayera had said something negative about the Stormcloaks. Are the Gray-Manes happy about the current development?

“Well, I suppose then I have to hurry. No dirty tricks, Breton!”  
“On my mother’s soul I would never” the happy tone returned to Belethor’s voice.  
“I will leave my assistant with you, just in case.”  
“That is alright.”

Footsteps were heard retreating and Ayera started to go through any escape routes. From what she knew Belethor always accepted his supply at the back of the shop, away from prying eyes. A good point, but assassinating someone nearly after the first step into the city wasn’t advisable and she had Erador to think of right now. 

“Ey boy, how about you go and get my assistant from the front of the shop in the market?”  
“I am to only observe you, not follow your orders, Breton!”  
“Well, I am sure you want to see the execution, if you get my assistant I can unload this faster with your help of course.”  
A grumble and then a defiant “Fine” was heard and another set of heavy foot falls retreated into the distance. 

“Ey you two, you can get out now, quickly” Belethor whispered as he yanked the cloth away from them. Ayera had to squint into the glaring sunlight.  
“Oh dear, what happened to him?”  
“He needs a stamina potion, but I need help getting him out.”

Erador only grunted when she disentangled herself from him and hooked her arms under his shoulders. Belethor leaned over the cart and grabbed his legs and together they heaved him off. He was heavy, Ayera realized as she hopped off the cart and her arms nearly gave out. Gritting her teeth she shuffled the limp mer into the back of the shop and laid him near the fire place against the wall. 

“Stay in there and act casual” Belethor hissed at her and ran back outside and shut the door in her face. She had to bite her tongue not to yell for a stamina potion after him. Just as she was about to do it the gruff voice of the merchant’s assistant came up again “Found your assistant, now get to it.”  
“Oh yes, yes, I just looked over the order. Everything in order.” He certainly could have a cheerful tone when required.  
“Of course, we are Nords, Breton!”

Rolling her eyes, Ayera turned her attention back to Erador who was gasping for air slightly. Too much magicka use for him in such a short time she concluded and walked over to him. She put her hands on his shoulders and charged her right hand with a weak frost spell. Maybe cooling him down could substitute a stamina potion? She had seen Danica use one on a burn…. Cursing her lack of knowledge of dealing with these problems other than closing a wound, she put the hand on his forehead. Only, Erador raised an arm and swatted her hand weakly away. She creased her eyebrow at his weak effort, but lowered her arm and disbanded the spell. Looking around she searched for a bottle with the distinct green liquid. Nothing there. Damn, Arcadia surely had some, but the less people knew she was in the city right now, was the best. Her disguise might be fooling those who didn’t know her for the whole three years she had lived here, but Belethor, Arcadia and all the others would look right through the dyed hair on a second more careful glance. Well, dyed hair partially now, some of the dye had flaked off further when they had left the cart. A batch of white hair shone through right at her shoulder. 

“I just need to breathe, Ayera. No frost spells, not those” came his strained and quiet plea. Ayera raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side. Why would he reject a weak frost spell which only would serve to cool him down a bit? It had sounded too strained to be just magicka exhausted. Magicka exhaustion was an awful feeling, no doubt, but it was more of lethargy and a sap of strength if too much concentration and energy had been used up. There had been a subtle undertone to it and she couldn’t put her finger on it. Unsure how to proceed, she just sat in front of him with her arms at her side, staring at him.  
He gulped a few more breaths in before it evened out slightly. Then he looked at her with glazed eyes and smiled weakly, “I suppose I overestimated myself back then. The invisibility spell cost me a lot of concentration.”

Ayera could only smile back while keeping an eye on his breathing pattern. Then she saw his eyes drifting downward to her right shoulder and a frown came to his features. Sithis, he saw her real hair now… Quickly she moved the hair to her back and tried to look as innocent as possible. Maybe the smile she gave him was a little bit too daft. 

“I swear I just saw white hair…”  
“No, there is no white hair” she commented and prayed to Nocturnal that he let it drop.  
“No matter, I was probably seeing things.” Yes, think that. Sighing she noted down how close she had come to having explain that one. Another heave and he lifted one of his arms and started flexing it by closing and opening his fist.

Footsteps came close the door and the handle was pressed down. Ayera’s hand shot to the place under her tunic where she had put the dagger in and sat up so she could jump at whatever unfortunate soul had decided to enter. It was only Belethor and she slumped back down on her knees again.  
“Alright, lovebirds” he shot a mirthful glance at Ayera who only glared daggers at him, “I have your order in my shop, but……” Ayera had a fairly good idea what was coming next “I see that you need to get your coins first, right?”  
She only nodded, he didn’t need to know really more.

“Ayera, your house is under constant supervision and a gap in guard patrols is pretty impossible to get.”  
Groaning, Ayera rubbed her temple. How much more complicated could it get? The pretty inconspicuous window at the back she had commissioned could maybe her way in… her paranoia and need for multiple escape routes had paid off for once. But that would mean this was something only she could do, Erador couldn’t come along. He was too big for that tiny little hole she could fit through but he was too muscular. She looked to Erador “I need to go there alone, you stay here and recover.”

He opened his mouth to protest “What if you are caught?” Well, she would most likely be caught if he tagged along.

“Look, if I am caught, there will be a big fuss as you have asserted for yourself with my association with the Dragonborn” Belethor raised his eyebrows and Ayera looked at him pleading him not to speak. Luckily he didn’t. “You will find me easy enough. There are a few lock-picks I can give you now just in case.”  
He scrunched his nose, he certainly didn’t like how this was going. 

“You just stay here, one person will be less suspicious than two strangers hanging around the Dragonborn’s house.”  
“Alright, I will stay here, but I do not like this.”

Sighing Ayera stood up and turned to Belethor motioning him to follow her to the front of the shop. There she spoke to him in whispers “He doesn’t know and I rather have him not know now.”

“I don’t know your reasons, but alright. Now I can have an eye on him while you get the coin and whatever you need. But as I said the guards have doubled since the conquest and tripled with the impending execution.”

Seeing her tightened jaw he continued “Balgruuf and his brother, some of the Battle-Borns because of their allegiance with the legion.”  
“I figured as much.”  
“I can give him a stamina potion as well, looks like poor Danica when she over exerts herself.”  
“I would appreciate if you could, how much more would that cost?”  
“Fifty more on the regular five hundred for the cloaks, invisibility potion and your hair dye.”

Speaking of hair dye, she tugged the white strand forward and Belethor winked understandingly and flitted over to the counter and produced a tiny bottle with a black liquid sloshing in it. 

“I could give it to you now, but you have to pay more for it now rather the discount for compound purchases.”  
He was taking advantage of her lack of time to haggle with him. Smart little bastard and she took out her last twenty coins knowing fully well that he normally charged twenty-five for it alone and he frowned at it. 

“Hmm, the remaining five you have to pay back and I need to keep a pawn as well.” He looked over her and saw nothing except her civilian clothes. “and you have nothing on you. Well…” he stashed the bottle back to the counter again “looks like I have to keep it here then.” 

What was this all about she thought angrily and tucked the white strand into her neck line at the back. Rather uncomfortable since it went down between her shoulder blades and made her shake as the first reaction. Sometimes she had the urge to punch business men, but then she had to punch herself as well. Re-adjusting her tunic and walked back to where Erador still sat. Some colour had returned to his face she noticed with some satisfaction, but she still didn’’t like how he still slumped against the wall. Kneeling down, she reached into her pouch, grabbed a handful of lock picks and dropped them in his left palm.  
“I will be back shortly” she said mostly to herself than to him, but he still nodded. 

As Ayera peeked outside, Belethor returned with a small bottle with a stamina potion and handing it to him. There was no one outside from what Ayera could see so she darted out and crouched around the corner which opened up to a corridor to the alley and Arcadia’s shop. The market was bustling with people going around the business. Were there new people? Surely this woman who was chatting with Ysolda she had never seen. Did the conquest come with civilians? With what purpose? At least the guard still stood there with his back turned to her, now she had to pay attention that no civilian found her suspicious. Straightening out, she tugged at the tunic and started to walk silently across the gap. She felt no obvious stares at her that would raise her neck hair and kept walking towards the back of her house. There were a lot of guards standing within eye sight of the door, she noted as she slipped down in order to hide behind the stone elevation which provided the foundation to her house. Amateurs, she thought and patted the wooden panel which started at middle height of the wall. The loose one had to be pushed in and then pushed to the side to open up a small opening to squeeze through. It was rather tight for her even, so Erador would have had to wait outside anyways. 

She pushed herself up on her arms and nearly fell through on the other side onto the dining table. Damn it was dusty in here was her first thought as a large dust cloud whirled up as she landed on the floor. Turning around she slid the panel back, ensuring that any passerby would only see a wooden wall. The chest with her coin pouch was upstairs next to her bed in a fake bottom. But first, she looked into her alchemy lab room which she had re-furbished to more of a room with book shelves. Brewing potions had only ended in disaster, so she had taken away the alchemy lab table and put a potion shelf there with an additional book shelf. There were still some potions, some healing ones and poisons from Babette. She really could only take the healing ones, poison wouldn’t really be necessary at the moment she concluded. Just what to do with the poison? Letting them stand around until someone lost patience and broke in by breaking the door in? Not really a choice either. Really a waste of it throwing it away, she could maybe take one tiny bottle with her which might still fit into her tiny armor pouch with the healing potions. But the rest? Wasn’t there one more? Dump them on the floor? Or dump them into the cooking pot and hope that someone might dismiss it? No one would buy that one. Well, might as well dump it on the floor then, maybe the fumes from some of them might harm anyone coming in after her. A devious smirk appeared fumes were a bane of alchemy for non-vampires Babette once told her. Well, she would have to dump them once she was leaving.

With her tiny pouch stuffed with bottles with healing and a poison one, she sneaked up the ladder upstairs. Had someone already come in? There were no footsteps in the dust she noted, so highly unlikely, but you couldn’t be too sure about it. Upstairs she saw the bedroom door open, which made her freeze. Someone had been here, but how did they avoid making footsteps? Cautiously, she stood on her tiptoes and reached for her dagger and strained her ears for any tell-tale sounds of intake of breath. There was one, the one was not on the bed that was for sure, but there was a chair behind the door. She could sneak up behind it and then silence him or her. Drawing her dagger she crouched low and edged to the door. 

“Ayera, is that you?” a quiet voice broke the silence. Stunned Ayera nearly let the dagger fall down. Saadia?!  
Rounding the corner she saw her friend sitting on the chair with her own dagger on the little end table. Her hair was tussled and the dress had some tears in it. Ayera wasn’t sure whether her eyes were puffed up. From crying?

“Saadia? What are you doing here?”  
“What does it look like?” a cracking smile, she had the urge to hug her, but something stopped her, a hard glint in the eye, “I want to talk to you.” Ayera walked around and sat on the bed’s edge making a gesture with the arm for her to continue talking. Saadia took it with a nod,  
“Remember when I first met you?” Ayera nodded. Where was she going with this?

“You helped me retain my new life and destroyed those Alikir. I am still grateful you know…” But what does it have to do with this?  
“We still remained friends after this and I am grateful for that too…” Ayera frowned.  
“But when Whiterun fell, I had expected the hero we all had looked up to would come in charging to save us, but you didn’t and here you are now.”  
Something daunted on Ayera, “How long have you been here?”  
“Ever since the morning after the conquest. Do you have any idea what conquest can mean for a woman?”  
A lump formed in Ayera’s throat. Oh no…. Her friend only huffed at her expression,  
“You didn’t think this through, didn’t you? Some of us were unfortunate to meet some very drunken soldiers and they didn’t care that we were not willing. Ysolda got away because Ulfric had his eyes set on her for some reason, but us others were not so fortunate. Carlotta and I were raped, Ayera! Where were you?!”

Speech failed her, Saadia was right… She had been away, safe on the plains, not there, where she should have been. What a miserable Dragonborn she was. Cowardly hiding in the plains while the ones depending on her had been defenseless. Her stomach did flips and bile rose up. Was she even the one? Had the Greybeards been mistaken?  
“Say something!” came the furious demand.  
“I…”  
“Don’t say sorry, because you aren’t.” 

How can she say that? But before she could open her mouth to protest, Saadia interjected bittlerly, “Shut up you know. When I ran and hid here I found something interesting. You have a big collection of poisons for someone who has no talent in alchemy. Now, could be you were using those for your fighting, but you know, I did some thinking. You were always gone for several weeks and I have heard of a mysterious woman that when she appeared in a city a death or major theft feat was done. Are you that woman, Ayera? I must admit that you have hidden your identity well, but I know, well knew you and it just fit. The rise of the thieves guild and the return of the dark brotherhood and you just amassed wealth. It only takes a few connections and then I realized what the person I thought was my friend was” she stopped and tears were forming in her eyes “a thief and an assassin. Someone who lied to you and someone I always despised. Who are you really, Ayera?”

She figured it out…. Ayera’s brain was just blank. One part demanded to comfort her friend, one to lie to her and the last demanded a permanent silence. But who was she really? The Dragonborn? The Guildmaster of assassins? Or just Ayera? But she needed to answer, think…  
“I am….”  
“Yes who are you?” By Auriel… why was she making it difficult? At least she could be honest with her, she deserved it this time.  
“I…. don’t know.”  
An unbelieving snort was the response from Saadia.

“You don’t know? That is beyond pathetic.” The Hammerfell noble certainly just came through, no matter how hard she would try she will always have this accent and tone which always indicated a noble background.  
“Oh really? What about you? No matter what you try to be, you will always be the noble woman from Hammerfell who let the Thalmor in”, Saadia’s face fell, Ayera noted with satisfaction, even with a note of regret. She hated fighting with her friend, but she shouldn’t just point the finger. 

“So you knew about that?”  
“Yes, you lied as well to save your own skin, so how dare you tell me about betrayal?” Ayera’s mouth had contorted into a sneer.  
“Oh, at least I am no monster!” after that statement a pin could have been dropped in the silence that ensued. Then Ayera grit out, “So I am a monster?”  
Saadia scowled “Yes, you are an assassin and a thief. The scum on this world and I thought we were friends. At least you could have been a friend and the Thane of this hold and defended us, but you somehow cowardly escaped the battlefield!””

These insults punched her into the gut; after all she was kind of right in this. Her being a Thane had meant that she had responsibilities which she had neglected and others were paying for her stupidity.  
“Speechless, huh?”  
“Yes, because I didn’t expect my friend to come in here and start accusing me. How did you even get in there?”  
“The door was unlocked; you left the house pretty in haste with that man behind you. The next morning I fled to your house, been here ever since. In all honesty I didn’t think you would show your face again. Do you not have any shred of decency left?”  
“Decency? This has nothing to do with decency!”  
“No? The Thane who failed and fled like a coward returns and doesn’t even plan to get the Jarl out. I don’t think that anyone would be so forgiving if they recognized you.”” No, Belethor helped her to get in, but he is a business man and what else were his motives? Did he hope that she could bust Balgruuf out as well?  
“What are you trying to get at, Saadia?”  
“What I am trying to tell you is that I hate you” Ayera winced at this “and I rather spit on the memory of our friendship than doing anything else. Are you even the Dragonborn? You bloody coward?”  
“I am the Dragonborn!” Even with that exclamation it was more something to assure herself than Saadia.  
“Not to me, you are not the real one!” a sudden flash of steel and Saadia had launched herself at her. Out of pure instinct and experience, Ayera yanked her arms up and stopped the enraged woman’s dagger from plunging into her neck. 

“What are you doing?!” while pressing back, hoping to gain an upper hand. Saadia possessed a surprising strength from serving men in the inn.  
“What does it look like? Ridding this world of a hero it didn’t deserve!” And she pressed downwards again. Ayera’s arms started to shake from the exertion, she wasn’t used to this. She plunged the dagger downwards while turning her body sidewards, making Saadia’s upper body surge downwards with the momentum and Ayera headbutted her, driving Saadia backwards. The larger woman stumbled backwards, but caught herself before toppling over. Then she lunged back at Ayera who had jumped forward and had outstretched her hands in order to twist the arm with dagger and grasped it. Saadia stepped back and yanked her arm out, but she didn’t expected Ayera letting the arm go and fell back with arms flailing with a desperate scream. A sickening thud was heard when the back of her head collided with the table’s edge standing nearby. Then a deathly silence. Ayera had outstretched an arm for what she couldn’t remember and stared at the unmoving body in front of her. 

“Saadia?”

No response and brown eyes stared back at her and a puddle of blood started to form underneath her head. Something rose up and Ayera found herself on the floor vomiting bile out on the floor. She had just killed her friend… if you could call her that, but she felt so cold and weak. Why was she sitting here like a pile of misery? She was an assassin! Sitting up, she observed the scenery. The table had blood stains and some books had fallen off. She had to get out of here; someone had surely heard what had occurred just now. Scrambling to the chest at the other end of the room, she reached for the switch for the false bottom with trembling fingers. Twice she slipped while listening for anything indicating a guard barging in. Finally it slid sidewards and revealed her pouch and the dagger of woe. Vaguely remembering to bring it for Erador she slipped it to where hers was and stuffed the pouch into the waist belt of the tunic. 

With one last look she rushed out of the room and to the ladder, in time for a loud thud against it. Freezing in shock her heart sped up, but she willed it down. No more silly reactions, no more mourning. Nothing here concerned her anymore. Dashing down she sprinted to the back of the house where the false panel was located. The lever didn’t budge at first and another thud against the door came, this time louder. Cold sweat broke out on her brow as she continued to finger the lever. Another thud and the empty wooden weapon rack next to the door shook as well. What did they bring with them? Her blood froze and Ayera doubted it would ever really feel heat again. With another desperate tug the panel finally slid open when another thud made the door creak precariously. Pulling herself up, feeling the vibrations as she slid out and let the panel slide back. Not a moment too soon as guards piled into the house as she cowered at the back of the house heaving. Catching her breath she crawled around the stone foundation and peaked around, a small number of spectators had appeared at the front of the door as she heard the distinct sounds of furniture being overturned and even destroyed. This was her home and they destroyed it and with that something of her got lost with it. Looking back onto the familiar wooden structure she realized that it held no more connection to her anymore. That house was the Dragonborn’s. She wasn’t the Dragonborn. She was just Ayera, the assassin. Nothing more. Her friend the Dragonborn was still outside in peril from the Stormcloaks and she had dishonoured herself by killing her friend Saadia. Duty demanded the restoration. With that thought she dashed towards the back of Arcadia’s shop and from there to Belethor’s. 

He wasn’t there when she slipped in through the door, just Erador sitting on a chair holding a bottle in his hand. He jumped up when he heard her coming in, but stopped in his tracks when she looked at him. Was she really the picture of misery? 

“Ayera?”  
She didn’t need sympathy, but her lips still quivered. Pathetic thief. Not worthy of the leadership of the two most unscrupulous guilds in Skyrim. Someone touched her shoulders and she would have lashed out, if the strength in her arms hadn’t left her. Just then she realized she was shivering viciously. The coldness had gone from her blood to her bones and her heart was going slowly. He was close, but she couldn’t smell his now familiar scent, she furrowed her brows, she needed something she knew would be there. Why wasn’t it there? Gripping the cloth of the tunic pulled him closer and the grip on her shoulders tightened. 

“Ayera, what happened?” He asked confused as she drew herself into a strange imitation of an embrace. Had she still his tunic in her hands? She couldn’t feel the smooth texture anymore. Looking down she saw her hands still gripping the cloth, not even closing them didn’t give her any sense of touch. The blue of the cloth started to waver slightly. Looking up she looked at Erador with wide eyes. What was happening to her? Her mouth refused to obey her will and open. To her luck Erador finally realized there was something wrong and shook her again, this time more harshly. Had his eyes always been this green and large? There was also a mini scar just above his eye lid. How did it get there? Looked old. Her heart was in her ear it seemed, it pounded so loudly.  
“Ayera?” Did that sound desperate? She didn’t know anymore. Her eyes couldn’t focus on his face anymore while everything numbed down. It was like she was as light as a feather, nothing was important anymore. A white light appeared somewhere in the wooden ceiling. Cocking her head to the side she observed it, unable to look away. It just hovered there, a gentle white light, nothing mattered anymore. Such peace and radiated such warmth to her coldness…. She wanted it to come here and engulf her. Her head felt so light and the white light started to expand slowly, everything got brighter until it reached her. Any sounds were drowned out and it was so quiet, peaceful. Nothing then.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, next chapter. I hope you enjoy it.   
> Please, please do comment.

Why were her ears buzzing? Were there a lot of people? Where was she even? Her eyeslids felt just too heavy to open. There was something hard beneath her finger tips, but her fingers were lead. She wanted to go back to the white light; it had been just so peaceful. Then, thank Auriel, the buzzing vanished and a voice crystallized in her senses,   
“Has she woken up yet?” It sounded familiar, thinking made her head hurt. Who was he even asking?

“No, still nothing.” A deep voice came near her. Footsteps retreated somewhere, so Ayera guessed that she was alone with whoever was with her. As her head started to clear from a headache slowly, her limps still heavy, she concentrated on her senses. There was a familiar smell in the air, but she couldn’t pinpoint why it was familiar. At least she wasn’t as cold anymore, but there was still some coldness left. Something creaked open, a door? She was just too groggy to focus on more than one sensation. 

“I brought another stamina potion, maybe it helps.” The first voice was back again, who was it?! Dwelling on it more another stab rammed into her brain, why was she this way? Her throat was just dry, moving a muscle to swallow though proved too much for her. Focus on breathing, Ayera, breathing will clear everything up. In and out…

“Thank you” second voice responded. Did the pleasant smell belong to him? Why couldn’t she remember? Something firm wiggled underneath her hair. No not one… five… it was a hand and she felt her head being lifted up and forward. Then the hand disappeared and something replaced them on her shoulder, not something an arm. Her head lolled back, the soft cloth from the feel of it dipped to her right, as the owner of the second voice seemed to shift. The arm shifted and the forearm she supposed stabilized her head and kept it from lolling side ward. Something round touched her lips and if she could she would have recoiled from the sudden sensation. It was gently pushed into her mouth and a cool liquid flowed into her mouth. It tasted fresh and some strength slowly returned to her, but she couldn’t swallow. Fingers suddenly appeared on her throat, a soft pressure as they rubbed circles on it. Reflex set in and she swallowed. As the liquid trickled down, she felt lighter and her strength somewhat returning. Finally, after a while she could open her eyes, even slowly.   
At first it was too bright, but it all went into focus shortly. From the looks of it she was on a bed with an elf kneeling on the bed with an empty bottle in the hand looking at her with concern and another, not an elf, in the door. Names flooded her head and she winced at the sheer intensity of it, the elf, Erador if she remembered correctly, creased another concerned eyebrow and lowered her again. Belethor, the man in the door, walked into the room and pulled a chair to them. 

“You gave us quite the scare there, girl” Belethor commented as he sat down, leaning forward with elbows on his knee.   
“You came in and you just seemed so out of it and then you collapsed. We’ve been pumping you full with stamina potions ever since, but you were out for hours now.”

Hours? What was the time?

“How long exactly?” her voice sounded so scratchy, she needed water or anything to make the dry taste go away.   
“You came in not long after you left to do, whatever you went to do, we have a fairly good idea what, and it is now past midday.”  
So she had been out for nearly a quarter of a day then. Not good. 

Erador beside her spoke up now, “Ayera, what happened? Belethor told me there had been a body found.”  
She gave Belethor a meaningful look, he sighed and got up to leave “I will give you a few minutes then.”

Once he was out of ear shot, Ayera tried to sit up on her own. It was slow and her arms protested at the too strenuous activity for now. He only watched her.   
“I was in her house” she started slowly trying to piece together what had happened. 

“I gathered as much, and you returned with your money and a dagger. But word on the market is that there had been a body there. Did you kill that woman?”  
She remembered, it was still painful, but it gone from the stabbing pain of guilt to a numbed pounding in her chest.   
“Yes I did, it was Saadia. She tried to kill me, blaming me for not saving the city, and in the squirm she fell unluckily” why was her voice so monotone? A long sigh was heard and he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Sounds like she held a massive grudge and I had the impression you were on very good terms, so there was something else.”  
“She was raped by the victors and blamed me for not doing enough for Whiterun….”  
He looked stunned for a second.  
“I see… look Ayera, this might not cheer you up right now, but think of it like this, you have done all you could and if I hadn’t dragged you away, you would be a corpse on the battlefield right now.”

No she wouldn’t, she had been alright until he decided to drag her along. He must have seen on her face that she disagreed and interjected before she could.   
“Ayera, in all honesty, fighting with a bow is fine, but close combat with a dagger and magic? Not a really good idea considering magic is usually ranged combat. Daggers don’t hold much against a war hammer. You were alright, but any longer and you would have been dead.”  
“No…”  
“Take it from me, a trained soldier for most of his life.”

That shut her up for a while. Was this why she had failed to keep Lydia alive? Because of the lack of combat knowledge? Why hadn’t she reflected what would have happened if? By Sithis, she had been so stupid and Saadia, she swallowed, had paid the ultimate price for it and even by her own hands.   
“We don’t have time to get you comfortable with a sword right now unfortunately, the Dragonborn is priority.”  
He was right, but who was the Dragonborn anymore? She wasn’t worthy of that title of that burden being the prophesied hero. First Lydia, her duty as the Thane of Whiterun and now Saadia. The Divines certainly didn’t make her life any easier.   
“I know, but as you said we need your pouch.”

“The inn is closed right now, with the news of Saadia’s death, the inn keeper had closed it out of grief. Furthermore, the guards are still investigating and questioning everyone in the market if they had seen anything.”  
“That means we are pretty much stuck right now?”  
“Pretty much” he visibly hesitated, “I think you heard about the executions this afternoon?”  
How could she forget…  
“Yes I remember.”  
“Belethor told me who exactly will be dying. Balgruuf as he refused to bend the knee, Irileth his housecarl and Idolaf Battle-born for treason.”

Nothing too surprising to her really. Balgruuf was somewhat a logical consequence and based on what she knew and experienced of Irileth, she would rather jump into the Red mountain than forsake her vows. But Idolaf Battle-born? Sure the family was close to the legion, but then the whole family would be dying now. 

“When are the executions?”  
“Not in a few hours, but the blocks had been set up already.”  
“Have you been out?”  
“Yes and quite honestly, no one cared. Some guards stopped me but I just said that I was with Belethor. Haven’t bothered me since.”  
They were that lax?  
“Why were you out?”  
“I went and scouted the situation.” He sat on the edge of the bed. “The people are tense, they aren’t sure how to adapt right now to the change in leadership. At the moment all they care about is surviving to the next day. There had been some denunciations from what I have heard, Farengar is in jail at the moment.”

Poor Farengar, though he should be fine, there was a court wizard in Windhelm, but she wasn’t sure. Farengar after all was still a Nord, but he was loyal to Balgruuf. Maybe they will keep him in the dungeon until he budged. He did after all was the expert on dragons in Skyrim. They needed his research.  
“Have you heard who might succeed? Ulfric won’t be the new jarl, he is after all still Jarl of Windhelm.”  
“No word on that.”

Ayera sighed, the new jarl would be crucial what Whiterun’s role was going to be in the future of the civil war. Though, he would do what Ulfric told him, he did owe him the seat of power then. Maybe it would be announced at the execution…. She needed to go there, no matter if Ulfric might recognize her.   
“We need to go to the execution.”  
“Are you insane? People will recognize you and you fought against Ulfric. I don’t think he will be merciful to you and ask you politely where the Dragonborn is.”

He had a point, but Ulfric knew she was the Dragonborn, there would be other things happening if he got his hands on her.

“I need to see it, Jarl Balgruuf was after all my Jarl and we all respected him.” She owed him that much at least.   
“Think about it, we need to get the pouches and then we are gone, the Dragonborn is certainly not here and the matter is much more pressing now that the civil war has reached the tipping point” he implored.   
“We won’t stay long, I just need to be there and then we are on our way. Alright?”  
“Alright, now Belethor is eyeing your money pouch. I think he wants you to pay up.” 

Oh right, at least she can reapply the hair dye again. Smother the last evidence she had ever been someone else. That person was someone else and she was going to find her. Twisting her body to put her feet on the floor, she pushed herself up, wobbling slightly. 

“Don’t stand up too quickly”   
“Too late, where are Belethor and my pouch?” Putting a foot in front of her testing how much of her balance had returned. She could walk steadily now at least, just needed some more time to get into it again. The pouch was on the table with the dagger next to it. Grabbing the dagger she turned around again and held it out to Erador.   
“This is the blade of woe” he got a confused look on his face, “I took it out of the house, she told me that the blade used to belong to the leader of the dark brotherhood….”

He held up a hand, interrupting her.   
“Are you trying to tell me that the Dragonborn is an assassin?”  
No, she wasn’t. She killed the leader leaving her to ascend to leadership.   
“No, in fact she took the blade of the dead leader.”  
“I see” then he stayed silent. There was something he was brooding on, but she couldn’t dwell on it, for they needed to hurry up. So, she pressed the dagger in his hand, took the pouch and walked over to where Belethor stood and jingled the pouch. All the while he continued to stare at the blade. 

“Ah so you can pay now.”  
“Yes, of course. Bring the wares.”

Belethor disappeared shortly and returned with two bundles and a packet. Setting the bundles down with the offhand comment “Cloaks”, then pointed to the packet, “Your potions.” Nodding in response, he walked back and returned with two pouches. “Filled soul gems and some dried food.”  
The complete order and when Ayera had controlled the wares, she opened the pouch and counted the sum on the table. 

“That is it” Belethor said as he counted the coins in his hand.   
Erador who had followed her, took a cloak in his hand and felt it. It was a plain dark grey fabric with a plain steel brooch. From how he held it she could see a hood. 

“Now we only need the pouch, get out and retrieve our armor from the Khajiits.”

She only nodded and opened the packet which contained the potions. Sure enough a small bottle of her usual hair dye lay on the bottom squeezed in between the invisibility potions. Glancing behind her she saw Erador still inspecting the cloak, whatever he was looking for. For now she would need a basin of cold water where she could dump her hair in and dye it. Where did Belethor keep a water basin, if he even had one…. Downstairs was the shop and there was not one, not in his bedroom either a quick and sneaky look confirmed. How did he clean himself? Sighing she slipped the bottle back in the packet and noted mentally to do it once outside the city as well as out of sight from Erador. Until then she had to hide the white batch…. Fortunately her hair was long enough to be hidden away under the cloak. It was wool she noted once she had slipped into the grey mass. 

The blade of woe had been laid on the table top. Why was he hesitating? Was it because of its more sinister background? She dismissed the thought as soon as it entered her head, he was pragmatic, probably hadn’t had the opportunity yet to hide it. Some doubt remained though…. She didn’t know him too well after all. Eyeing the potion packet whilst stemming her arms, she determined that the potions wouldn’t fit into her small armor pouch anymore and the money one had to be relatively small as to not be obvious. Sharing the coins with Erador to make it easier was out of question. No thief ever did that. But the potions were at least shareable. 

“I can’t put more in my armor pouch” she explained as she stretched out the packet. There were five invisibility potions in there, small bottles, but from what she had smelled there were filled with a potent mixture. Erador only shrugged and took the packet and looked inside. 

“They might actually fit in mine, but I am not entirely sure, but with the ones from the inn they will fit in comfortably.”  
“If they are still there that is.”  
“I rather not think what would happen if that were the case” he grumbled. 

He still hasn’t touched the dagger. They couldn’t really dally anymore. Annoyed she walked briskly to the dagger, snatched it up and approached him. He looked surprised when she pushed his tunic up and looked at his belt. A pair of hands shot forwards and grabbed her hands and pushed them away. 

“What are you doing?”  
“Get the dagger somewhere for you, since you aren’t doing it” she deadpanned, snatched her hands away and went back to his belt. 

“Ayera, I am not putting the dagger inside my belt” he grasped one hand of her this time and pried the dagger out of it. Frowning she let it go and watched him rip a bit of cloth from the bottom of his tunic and wrapped it around the dagger. 

“I will wear it outside, quicker to draw” he explained to her silence. Too obvious she thought, too easy to see if the cloak just slightly flapped in the wind. But she stayed her hand and let him. It was an uneasy feeling to let this slide, however it wasn’t her place to decide. Right now, she needed to twist her hair so it could comfortably fit into the hood and not show the rather large white patch of hair. 

They continued preparing in silence, with only the occasional rustling of cloth or creak of the floor boards. Belethor opened the backdoor for them, whispering “Execution is about to begin, Shrine of Talos, if you want to see, but remain at a safe distance, go up to Jorrvaskr, the crowd is probably forming now, so there should be still some space to go to. Also…” he gave Ayera a hard stare “if you think of busting the execution up, the guards are on high alert and looking for the Dragonborn. You know what that means.” With that he stepped outside behind with them. “By the way, if a married couple walks around” he winked, “they tend to walk arm in arm.” 

Ayera looked at Erador who looked after Belethor with an incredulous stare. “He is the sleeziest man I have ever met.”  
“He isn’t too bad.”

Erador looked down to her and after a second he offered her his arm, which she took with a moment’s hesitation. Dark clouds had formed since the last time she had seen the sky and a cool breeze was blowing, making Ayera instinctively huddle deeper into her cloak as they stepped into the open market. People did look at them, but paid no further attention to them, which baffled her. Usually someone would talk to her by now… maybe they were used with her being alone and with the white hair. Or maybe there were she was travelling in armor too much. Who knows, at least they didn’t raise a fuss for now. Well, right now she needed to keep up with his long steps, by Sithis, he was fast. 

“Slower, please” she hissed, while tugging at his arm hard. In response he came to an abrupt stop. Nearly tripping over the hem of her cloak, she caught up to him. “If we want to look like a married couple, then please don’t make it look like we only met yesterday.”

He only huffed, but at least slowed down to the point where she could subtly nudge him into the desired direction. Up the stairs and the Eldergleam came into view. His steps faltered a bit and whispered “I have heard of this tree, but I had never thought that it would look this….” Oh someone was speechless. Something she could tease him, just her stomach had formed too many knots to do it now. The little place in front of the Talos Shrine was surrounded by guards, but allowed enough space to see the block. Her steps faltered, this was real, why hadn’t this sunken in already? Why was she so naïve still?

A hand was placed around her shoulder and squeezed. “I think I see the place Belethor talked about, come…” it was him, at least he didn’t say a degrading comment. At least he wasn’t like the other Thalmor, though they were others… Ondolemar for once, but she hadn’t talked to him for a year now. But what he made up with the occasional friendliness he was equally a downright bastard at other times. She was lead through a slowly forming crowd past the Eldergleam and up the first set of steps to Jorrvaskr. From that vantage point the Talos Shrine and the Dragonsreach’s steps were visible. Some people were already standing there, some looking at them briefly, but there was no spark of recognition, others didn’t even look. There was a constant murmur, hushed voices in the breeze carrying the late heavy Lavender smell. Usually it would be soothing and she could feel herself relaxing at it from sheer habit. The block posed such a contrast, that it felt surreal, nightmarish bringing memories of Helgen back. Clouds threw shadows on the ground as the space began filling up with spectators. All that time Ayera and Erador continued looking at the steps leading down from the keep, Ayera tensing up every time she saw someone walking down. So far it had only been a guard doing his patrol. Surely, they would start now, any moment. She knew that Erador was getting twitchy with each passing minute they were standing in view for anyone. 

Suddenly the murmur died down and instinctively Ayera grabbed Erador’s elbow. Thankfully, he didn’t shake her off, only looked at her briefly and looked back up. A slow procession had come into view on the steps, guards at the front and from the distance she could see people in rags, but they were a little bit too blurry for her to identify any of them. Silence hung in the air and Ayera swore that it had gotten significantly colder. This was it, after this she would have lost her only home. Pushing the thought down she set her eyes on the small group behind the prisoners accompanied by guards. They weren’t prisoners, their clothes were too colourful for prisoner garb from what she could see. As they approached the faces became more distinct and sure enough there was Ulfric’s sickly blonde hair, all dressed up as the jarl of Windhelm with a woman on the arm. Her eyes widened in shock. She nearly hadn’t recognized Ysolda in that entire luxurious gown. Ysolda had only been an aspiring merchant who hadn’t really looked for any husband the last time she had really spoken to her. That was… damn, that was two years ago, before all the mess with the Thieves guild started and then she had only come into Whiterun when it was absolutely necessary. Many things had changed, people didn’t recognize her, except Saa… no, stop, no remembering her. Swallowing the lump in her throat down which had formed without her noticing. She had been estranged from this place for a long time. This was not her home anymore. Shaking her head and admonishing herself for getting distracted she focused back on the procession which had split, the front group had reached the bottom of the steps, walking through the corridor enforced by the guards. Some reached out for one prisoner in particular. From what she could see he was walking straight. This was Balgruuf. Walking up straight and proud to his death, like many Nords wanted to her mind noted. The murmur which had died down previously picked up and Ayera could practically sense the palpable tension in the air, one spark and there would be a riot, only the army behind Ulfric’s back hemmed such intentions. Then they reached the open space in front of the Talos statue and shrine. Ayera lifted her head and looked at Ulfric who had stopped on the steps below the arch. Guards flanked him and some others she didn’t recognise who didn’t wear the uniform guard attire. She couldn’t see his face, but his posture looked like that of a victor satisfied with what was happening. He needed to die, she should go, draw her dagger and do Skyrim a favour, finally do her duty as a Thane, avenge the dead of battle, undo her cowardice…. A hard tug made her stumble back slightly, confused she looked up to Erador. He had a hard expression and before she knew what happened his arm kept her rooted in place. Not that she wanted to, her strength was too little and maybe she needed someone subtly restraining her. Now she stood there watching how the guards stood in a single file with the prisoners in between them. Balgruuf, Irileth, Proventus and Idolaf… She sighed in relief when she at least didn’t see Farengar amongst them, they did after all need his research. 

“Don’t do anything rash, some are looking”, he had leaned down and made a nudging motion with his head towards the step’s base. Don’t turn around…. Leaning against him, clutching his arm and turned her head subtly, looking over the edge of her hood. There were some Stormcloak soldiers, not in guard garb, but they had the distinct blue tunic over their chain mail. They were looking at them with narrowed eyes. Standing on her tiptoes she whispered closely to his ear “Probably because you are too obviously an elf.” She had to admit he was good when he sunk his head as if to kiss her forehead, but only moved his lips just a breath above her skin. “No, you had taken a step forward.” Her skin tingled slightly when he retreated, but kept her close to him. Shifting her eyes back, she saw their observers looking away, at least. 

Ulfric had stepped forward or more down a few steps, leaving Ysolda on top. Ayera could have sworn she saw the distinct gold flash on her hair, could it be that… oh no. Married in such a short time? That just stank. Her thoughts were interrupted when Ulfric began to speak. One thing she could rely on him was to have a loud voice. Surely didn’t fail him now. 

“Good citizens of Whiterun….” Oh with that tactic, not really from what she had heard Saadia. How many more were assaulted in such a way? She really didn’t want to know, it made her only sick.   
“these”, he made a wide gesture with his arms towards the prisoners, “are traitors.” A pause where the murmuring soared up again. Ayera was glad Erador had restrained her. 

“Traitors to Skyrim”, the Skyrim he envisioned obviously, grinding her teeth she sincerely wished the dagger was more accessible than directly underneath his arm. Her only choice was to watch and she hated herself for not doing anything more. 

“A Skyrim which is changing every day under the glorious” the soldiers clapped and some others joined in belatedly. The arm only tightened around her, no clapping. This was suspicious, they should, just her arms were too heavy to lift let alone clap. A few hesitant cheers. Ulfric nodded to someone below him, she couldn’t see. It seemed to be a secret signal. Suddenly someone grabbed her by the neck. If she had a septim for every time that happened she would be rich enough to buy the house in Solitude. “Listen up, elf “, wait, he wasn’t even talking to her, “if you value your wife’s honour” was he going to do the same thing to her as Saadia. Not in oblivion, “you will cheer now or you will be made to watch.” Erador looked murderous at that point. He was good at acting. “You will do no such thing.” She was choked slightly harder, making her gag. “Then cheer”, it cost him all determination with his jaw clenched Erador clapped, staring at the man behind her hard. With that he shoved her back into Erador’s arms. He caught her, but let her go as soon as he was sure the soldier was gone. She hated Ulfric, he knew this would happen. He knew there were elves here. Humiliation at its finest. 

“They will answer for their crimes, the court has decided their crimes can only be repented by death.” They all knew this, why repeat? Also which court?  
Another gesture and two guards grabbed not Balgruuf, with horror Ayera watched them grab Irileth and push her towards the block. Make Blagruuf watch, how cruel. What about his children? Where were they? Hopefully they weren’t made to watch, no matter how much of huge brats they were. But she couldn’t look away. This was too much like Helgen. Only a dragon was missing now to complete the memory. There was only complete silence when the Housecarl was walked with her chin held high to the block. A man, she recognized him as Ulfric’s right hand man, pushed her down, then used his boot to keep her down. Only then she saw someone coming forward with the typical executioner hood and axe. She didn’t know any prayers nor did she pay any particular attention to any divine worship. Well, Arkay was usually associated with death, maybe she could… or Azura, dark elves were very fond of that daedric prince. Oh Arkay, one of the nine Divines, take Irileth to….

“Resistance to apprehension and treason.” The axe was lifted. A sickening thud followed. Sorry Irileth. She didn’t look at the head, no need to see it. No cheer from the people, at least. Once the body was cleared away, she sincerely hoped it would be taken to the Hall of the dead or at least burned according to dark elf customs. Though she highly doubted Ulfric would do that effort. Maybe his right hand man, for all his bitterness, he did respect warriors regardless of race.   
Idolaf was next. She hadn’t known him too well, well she had only talked to him when she had crossed his path. Being a Thane did have some duties such as making sure everyone felt safe and if necessary dealing with it. He however wasn’t pushed down like Irileth, he was a Nord after all. 

“Alliance with the Empire and further correspondence after conquest.” No wonder, he had been very invested by the idea of a reunited empire and by that it was at its strongest. Some weeping was heard, his mother and son were at the front. Where was the old man? The axe rushed down again. May he go to Sovngarde.  
She didn’t feel anymore when Proventus was brought forward, didn’t even hear his charges. Adrianne was nowhere to be seen and Ayera shuddered to think about what had happened to her. “We can go”, Erador whispered to her when she visibly shook for a moment. “No, that would be too obvious.” He sighed and looked around. She knew he rather wouldn’t be here, but he needed her to find the Dragonborn. 

Balgruuf was the last, when he was pulled backwards someone cried “Glory in Sovngarde.” What was happening? Why were people defying Ulfric? He certainly had a sour expression and the same signal as before and the crier was silenced shortly after. Erador tensed up next to her, she could sense he wanted to do something. She squeezed his forearm to snap him out and he did. Certainly didn’t like it for sure. Will he yell at her for that?   
“This man betrayed Skyrim, allied himself to the Empire!” not true, he always wanted to keep neutral, what a liar. Sadly, some people will believe him, especially the Gray-Manes. Were they the ones who negotiated the death of Idolaf? They were after all prime candidates for the next jarl of this hold as they were one if not the oldest family in Whiterun. Dead silence before he continued, “He sold you to the elves!” She clenched her fists, nothing more she could do, a sickening feeling, “he abandoned you!”

The people murmured, a shift in the mood was palpable, to the negative.   
“This man dragged the war out, let your sons and daughters die!” This was going to end up dangerously. Ayera looked around nervously. If a riot broke out then they were going to be in the middle of it. Not good if they would have to stick together and unscathed. A riot would mean a lot of dead people and Ulfric couldn’t afford one so soon after conquest. His men were probably still recuperating. 

“He will pay for his crimes!” The axe man took this as his cue and Balgruuf was no more. Ayera could see some people lowering their heads out of respect for their late jarl. Auriel, may he walk the path to Sovngarde as he had always wanted. 

It was all finished and Ayera turned to Erador to nudge him. But he kept his gaze on Ulfric, so she looked back to see him waving someone to him. Vignar Gray-Mane stepped forward all in decorative garb. Was he going to…?

“This will be your new Jarl, good citizens of Whiterun, he will lead you out of the cowardly ways of your predecessor.” What a smug bastard. The air got tenser quickly after this exclamation and some people shifted and she could see some angry faces. Vignar would only do something Ulfric told him to do, nothing really of his own thinking. A new steward would be provided from Ulfric as well. There was nothing she could do now anymore. “Any Thanes have their status revoked, talk to the new jarl about re-appointment.” Was he trying to get her to walk into the viper’s nest? Did he really think she was that stupid? Vignar walked off again and another was waved forward. 

A bulky man in ebony armor strode forward and came to a halt next to Ulfric. What had the bastard cooked up? More murmuring and both seemed to bask in it. A dreadful feeling settled in her stomach. 

“This is the real Dragonborn!” Real Dragonborn? But the Dragonborn was a woman. What were his motives? Was she herself the Dragonborn?  
“The pretender who lived in the city was a liar! She deceived you to gain your trust and betrayed you on the first opportunity!”   
A stone flew, a sword yanked upwards and a scream. A riot had broken out. 

Immediately they were surrounded by an angry mob, Ulfric had been pulled up to the keep with Ysolda, but the rest was defenseless to the guards who had retaliated in full force, slashing left and right. Some went down in yells, bleeding, but others attacked back. All in all chaos and Ayera had difficulty trying to get an overlook. Erador was still behind her, but for how long that she couldn’t tell. Grabbing on his arm, she turned around to him only to see him knocking a guard to the ground and tugging her along. She couldn’t see where he was pulling her, only people and at times the flash of a weapon. Drawing her own dagger wouldn’t be beneficial and draw attention to them. Before she knew what happened, her grip slipped and she was alone in the mob. Not now… oh Sithis, what was she going to do? She was practically defenseless against any fully armored guards. Panicked, she looked around seeing only surging bodies with her alone in the middle. Yells rang through the air and her heart sped up. Where was Erador? If they need to escape then together, he had no idea where to go without his map. Why did she even care? All she needed to do was get out and then decide to help him or not. Remember he needed you to find the Dragonborn…. Why did she keep forgetting it? Someone bumped into her, she got thrown into someone. Her nose hurt now and as she looked up, her heart stopped, a guard had caught her. She needed to get away, now! Her arms were at the front and he had her in an iron grip, her dagger was unreachable. It was a young one, Nord, blond hair, brown eyes and an ugly sneer on his face. “Dirty breton” spit hit her face and she flinched in disgust. Struggling was futile, too little space to fight and he was stronger than her as she was hit brutally in the cheek. Auriel, I beseech you… Before she could however finish the short prayer, her captor had dragged her through the mob. Suddenly someone appeared in front of them with a raised sword. Ayera recognized him, he had moved to Whiterun recently, eager to prove himself. Now he was bleeding from his throat and she was dragged away with an arm around her throat. Trying once more to escape his grip she bit in his arm. Her captor yelped, however, only tightened his grip and she gagged, seeing some stars in front of her eyes. A flash of blue cloth caught her eye. Erador! Grabbing the arm she pulled herself out, “Erador!” it was too quiet, but her lungs failed her. He didn’t turn around. Please, all Divines, please, make him hear! Trying once more, it came out louder than before but he only straightened out slightly, didn’t turn around though. No… tears pricked up her eyes. Not again, please don’t abandon her here. Before she could yell again, a hand clamped down on her mouth and she was dragged back, behind a wall. Where no one can see her or eventually hear her. All the sudden she got pushed brutally into a wall and her captor had built himself up in front of her.   
“You and that redguard bitch will do just nicely” if he wasn’t choked her, she would do something to him. Defend herself, get the dagger. Gasping for air she saw him leering down on her. Redguard? Was he…? He was talking about Saadia, he was the one who ruined Saadia’s life. A red rim formed around her eye sight. Sounds muted down, only his voice mattered now. It was a deep, rather pleasant one, if he had talked to her in her evenings in an inn, she might have considered it. Now she just wanted him to die. Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child onto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear...

He had leaned forward and trapped her arms against her chest while his warm breath hit her face. It smelled of cheese and she gagged inwardly. Squirming slightly, she tried to get away from him as possible, but with the wall in her back it was futile. She turned her head to the side, at least get some air of no bad mouth smell. His head shot forward and his nose was in the crook of her neck. Too close her mind screamed, but her arms were stuck and her legs were wobbly, barely able to keep her up. Damn legs, move! He inhaled deeply and his breath on her skin made her shudder in disgust. Suddenly his hands were on her hips gripping them tightly. “Hold still!” he hissed and bit her in the shoulder causing her to yelp and squirm harder. No, this was too new, was this normal? His fingers worked themselves underneath her tunic and his touch on her bare skin caused a shiver to run down her spine. She didn’t want this. Strength somewhat returned to her legs, but there was nothing she could do now, he was standing in between them, too close for a kick. She started to squirm harder nonetheless. Not that it helped, but resulted in him digging his fingers painfully into her hip bone. They went lower, below her pant line. Her eyes widened, it all sunk in now, he wanted to defile her like he did with Saadia. Was anyone near? No, there was no one. Her breathing became ragged, as they wondered lower. How pathetic she was not even able to fight back. If her arms were just slightly loser she could get to her dagger. She looked up, the sky was steel grey, harsh and unmoving, defenseless, all alone. He shifted in front of her and a leg forced itself between her thigh, her breathing hitched. Still unable to act, except push against his chest. He laughed, “How pathetic! Be honoured that I don’t care about you being a Breton”, and bit down again this time drawing blood. This time she didn’t care and screamed out, she was unable to deal with this alone. How pathetic. Her scream was short lived as he crashed his mouth onto hers, making her writhe in disgust, of himself and herself. Now he had positioned himself and she could feel something hard on her stomach. No, she will not have the same fate as Saadia, living in this shame of dishonor. Wiggling harder, she heard him curse and took his arms away to re-adjust his position. This was all she needed. The red around her eye sight had advanced and she could only see him, and his ugly sneer. Her right arm shot to where her dagger was and drew it. His face went from annoyed to horror when she surged forward and toppled him over. She landed on his chest and plunged the dagger down. Red hot blood squirted out and on her face, tunic and cloak. Nothing mattered; all what mattered was the man dying underneath her. He was struggling, flailing arms while she stabbed and stabbed without end. May he go to the void to all the traitors. She didn’t even notice when he stopped struggling. Only when a hand clasped around her hand with the dagger she snapped out of the blind fury. Grey cloak and an elf looking at her. Erador was looking at her with a strange expression. What was it? Concern, horror or just plain apathy? She couldn’t decide what it was. 

“Ayera, what happened?” His voice was steady and calm. It seemed like he didn’t care about the corpse whose blood was splattered all over her. Her voice had failed her and she just stared blankly at him. A sigh and he crouched down to her eyelevel, green eyes boring into hers. “I have looked all over for you. You were just gone in the mob.”

The yells and clangs of metal on metal were still there just muted, she guessed because they were in a secluded area, away from the fighting. Finally her voice returned, “Why didn’t you hear me?”  
He frowned, “You called for me?”  
“Yes,” she had to stop for a moment and nodded to the dead man underneath her, “he grabbed me and dragged me away, and then I saw you. I yelled for you, but you didn’t hear me.”  
“I apologise for that. Now tell me what did he do to be hacked into like this?”  
She looked at the torn mess of his throat and the unseeing eyes. It was a mess, no doubt about it.   
“He…” She couldn’t say it and he picked up on that hesitation. “He tried what?”  
“He wanted to defile me.”  
His jaw clenched and he closed his fists. “Good that you killed him, scum like that shouldn’t live.”

After he said that, he got up again and extended an arm to her, pulling her up and away from the corpse. “I have slipped into the Bannered Mare, hoping to maybe find you, but found our pouches.” He held up the two of them. That meant they could finally go out of the city now, away from this chaos and to never return. She straightened out and looked at her clothes, her cloak had a few blood stains, nothing too bad to wash out, later. Contract complete.  
“How do you think we will get out of here? The guards will have put a lock down on the city now and I am full of blood, they will keep us and Ulfric will recognize me!” He sighed and looked down on her. “I know this is a stupid situation, just there is so much confusion going on that I highly doubt they are looking specifically for you.”

“Sewers?” She suggested. They had to go past the Warmaiden and then slip through the bars. But her hopes were dashed when he shook his head. “There are a lot of people there, we will be seen.”  
“We were already seen, a few more won’t count.”  
“As you said before, you are splattered with blood, not uncommon but if his comrades find him and see you, they will do some conclusions.”  
She looked around, they were behind a house, obviously, but which one?  
“Where are we exactly at the moment?” A small one, could be next to the Bannered Mare? Was she dragged down the stairs? She couldn’t remember.   
“We are still near the Eldergleam.” They hadn’t changed district yet. 

He grabbed her more tightly, she wondered why briefly before hearing “I swear I have seen him just before with a Breton on his arm.” Oh Sithis…. Both of them scurried around a corner just in time to escape the view of three Stormcloak soldiers coming to the back. With bated breath she waited for them to lose it. Not that she didn’t understand, but she felt no remorse what so ever for what she had to do. 

“That little bitch is going to get it”, it was quiet, more of a growl than a bark. “Spread out, find her and bring her to me.” If they found her she would die, for sure, maybe a few more humiliations before they decided she could mercifully die. She looked at Erador and they dashed around the corner reaching the round place with the Eldergleam in the middle. Guards were keeping some people back while beating some others. Absentmindedly she tugged her cloak close to her chest, making the blood on her tunic disappear from view. Erador walked briskly to the steps leading down to the market place with her on his heels. Some yells were heard suddenly “Murder!” No one seemed to pay any mind to it though, they were pre-occupied to saving their own hide. She didn’t dare looking back, lest they recognize her. They reached the steps when her captor’s friends rounded the corner and saw the back of her cloak. Maybe the blood set them off, since they started pursuing them. She expected Erador to tug her along faster. But he stopped and turned around, she wanted to hit him. Was he going to abandon her? 

“Why are you following us?” it was menacing, what was he playing at?  
“Your companion murdered our friend!” someone behind her spat. Should she turn? Probably best not to. It must be a funny picture if regarded outside, Erador facing them, while she refused to turn around.   
“I assure you that she is as harmless as a fly”, Erador remarked scathingly.   
“Oh can’t she speak for herself?” Damn, she looked at Erador who had a slightly creased forehead. He was thinking, she should really too, but no coherent thought came to the forefront of her mind. Before she could open her mouth to say something, anything, she was whirled around quite forcibly. A murderous look was on their pursuer. “You little whore, you killed my friend!” He grabbed her at the collar and nearly lifted her off the ground. Her hands shot up and grabbed his fist, trying to pry them off. “Let her go now” Erador had appeared next to them lifting his fist as well. No more fighting, too much time was wasted already. Play the dumb, little and naïve Breton!

“Sir, I am no murderer!” she yelled trying her best to look severely frightened. His sneer only deepened. Shit…  
“You dirty Breton, you have blood all over you! You murdered him!”  
“No I didn’t!” His grip only tightened and his knuckles started to dig into her throat.   
“Explain the blood!” He barked. 

“We stood next to one who was stabbed in the first moments and we hid in a crook in the wall not to be in the thickest of the struggle.” His grip relaxed, only if a bit. At least he is thinking about it. Some more persuasion was needed it seemed. Squeezing some tears out was relatively easy, they had been there already and now they were running down freely.   
“Please, we don’t want any trouble. All we want is go and leave in peace.”

An arm wound itself around her waist, she turned her head to see Erador wearing an exhausted expression. He had caught on.   
“Look, we don’t even know what happened except you screaming murder. There are several murdered people around here.”  
The man in front of her visibly hesitated and then let go, “Alright, seems like you are innocent, but get out of my eyes before I decide otherwise. “

He turned and his friends trailed after him, a sigh escaped Ayera while Erador rubbed his temples. “That was too close! We really should get out now.”  
“So sewers then?” She was hopeful to finally leave this all behind. Her only response was a nod, so she turned to walk off to the steps when she saw someone gesturing a guard to her. Confused she cocked her head to the side. After all, she hadn’t really done anything illegal yet. Who was it? Erador hadn’t seen it yet. She tugged hard on his sleeve and he only turned around to her reluctantly with a questioning look on his face, “What is it?” Jerking her head in the direction of the guard she gave her silent answer. “The day keeps getting better and better.” Ayera could only roll her eyes at that remark and tugged slightly harder at his sleeve to finally get moving. 

“Ma’am, “ too late. The divines only hated her today. She turned around smiling which must present a disturbing picture, blood splattered and smiling. Nothing new here. 

“You have committed crimes against Skyrim and its people. By the order of the jarl I ask you to come quietly, Ayera former Thane of Whiterun.” What was happening?! Shocked she turned to Erador, who had an equally horrified expression on his face. How in Oblivion did they know? How did they even recognize her? Stunned she just stood there gaping at the guard. She should run, really should. But before she could do anything, two pairs of hands grabbed her from behind. Instinctively she pulled against the grip. Though it was futile, she wasn’t strong enough for two trained soldiers.   
“I am sorry, but my wife is no Thane of Whiterun and I would like to ask what kind of crimes you are accusing her of”, arrogance laden in his voice. Sometimes she really liked him just for that. Just the guard started laughing. 

“Wife?! She is a wanted criminal, a husband should have known that before saying his vows.” She couldn’t really deny those charges, but he just dismissed any objections that it might be not her. Whoever betrayed her will be dead once she was out she thought bitterly as the guards hauled her up. However, Erador didn’t give up. 

“This is all a misunderstanding, my wife here is no criminal. I knew her since I was a kid, so drop the ridiculous accusation. “ Ayera tried establishing any eye contact to signal him to drop it. Her chances to escape were bigger if he was outside. By Auriel, he was a stubborn one. 

“Sir, even if, we need to take her to jail while you appeal to the Jarl. Also, “ the guard adopted a very menacing tone, “you should have your wife on a tighter leash.” Oh how often she had heard that comment before? Too many times for it not to be annoying. “No, you let her go. She is not the Thane of your city.”  
“Are you trying to resist arrest?” Erador and the guard were close to each other now with cold stares directed at the other.   
“I am not resisting,” he raised an eyebrow, “I am merely questioning the warranty of getting my wife into your custody.”  
“Are you questioning Ulfric’s decisions, elf?” The last part was practically spit out, but now Ayera knew what had happened. How could she have not seen this all along? The soldiers at Nightgate Inn, they had distributed those pictures and the one tipping the guards off had seen the picture. This all had been a trap. He will pay for this. But first, she needed a way out of this. 

“Yes, I am.” Wrong answer her mind screamed and watched as a malicious smirk formed on the guard’s face.   
“Very well then. Guards! Arrest this man, throw this scum in the same cell. Ulfric wants them questioned!”

With that two were waved over and hers dragged her away, all the while she twisted her neck to see whether Erador continued resisting. Two others had come up and tried to grab him, but he swung out and caught the first one square in the jaw. She nearly stumbled on one of the steps up to the jail, forcing her attention shortly forward. But as quickly as she had looked forward she looked back again. The first had fallen down, now the other had jumped on him who couldn’t prevent that from happening and both went down in a heap of punches and arms. Ayera only winced, while trying to keep up and looking back. Only the well-placed kick to Erador’s temple from the guard who had accused them finished the brawl. The last thing she saw before she was forced to look forward once more was his arm going slack. She bit her lip in order to suppress a wince. It would have only given them a hint that she cared about him. They might make that deduction on the fact they are seemingly “married”. Up the steps they went and right towards the door which lead directly to the cells. Never had she been there except for bailing out the unlucky Alikir, but then she hadn’t stayed longer than necessary. 

As the door opened mossy smelling air hit her square in the face and she recoiled, tensing up. The guards only gripped her tighter and forcefully dragged her through the antechamber and then in the farthest cell. There she was roughly shoved onto the cell’s floor.   
“Undress!” was the gruff command. Undress? She hesitated; in no way she would bare herself to this… buffoon! 

The guard who had requested it sighed and waved another by. For a moment she hoped it was a female, but as the new arrival came she realized it was a man. Not again… her mind cried out as the one who had waved the other to them stepped inside and approached her. Drawing her dagger here would be suicide and she didn’t have Erador to back her up. Where was he? Frantically looking around she scooted away, shuffling on the dirty and moist floor. The man in the riot had been enough, not another. Her rational mind would have told her that shuffling away was a mere waste of energy as there was no hiding place, but it was frozen in fear. The guard reached her and reached up to her cloak brooch, opening it and in the process removed the cloak. With no other choice than to endure it, she squeezed her eyes shut and curled up in a ball. Her pouches were the next to go. Did his hands linger on her waist? Flinching whenever his cold fingers touched her skin and travelled across her torso. Probably looking for weapons and found her dagger, all bloody, and took it away silently. Then they were back, reaching her upper body. She froze solid when his hands wandered too close to her chest. Had they remained there longer than was considered appropriate? When she thought it wouldn’t end the fingers finally retreated. 

“All clear now”, was shouted and she heard footsteps leaving her cell and someone closing it. She still had her eyes closed, her heart was still speeding and only slowed down when she was sure they wouldn’t come again. At first there was only darkness, slowly some contours began to come forward. There was a small bed at the wall, but nothing else except something bulky in the corner. The smell from there was a foul stench mixed with the ever present mossy one. Clasping a hand over her nose, she crawled over on all fours to investigate. The stench got stronger and her hand connected with something soft, it felt like…skin. Yelping she scuttled backwards. A dead prisoner still lay there. She huddled herself far away from the corpse and the light beams falling in through the cell bars. Knees tucked beneath her chin. Think, Ayera. How could she successfully escape with Erador? Was there a weak link with the guards? A loose brick she could use to dig? Or could it be that there already was a built tunnel system by former prisoners? 

It was eerily silent. Where was he? Didn’t the guard say to put them in the same cell? A quiet splashing noise reached her ears causing her to snap her head up. Splashing? That meant there was water… the stream was under Dragonsreach? Would explain the ever present moisture. But there would be bricks between her and any stream unless there was a small opening leading to it and that meant the sewer system of the city. Fueled by the new spark of hope she crawled again but this time orientated her direction to the sound of water. It got louder in the corner with the body. Holding her breath she pressed onwards her ears picking up the louder sloshing. There in the faint light was a grid. Was this supposed to be where they were supposed to piss and shit? Carefully shaking it she noted that it was firmly connected to the floor. A loud clang made her scoot back quickly to her former sitting place as not to give the impression she had already found a potential escape route. Everything in time….

Shadows shifted and elongated. Someone was coming, or some were coming and there was someone being carried in the middle. Was he knocked out so badly? They approached her cell slowly and when they finally stood at the door, she could only see dark shades. He got unceremoniously thrown in. She tried to catch him resulting in him crashing into her chest, knocking her on her back. He hung in her arms like a wet sack with his head lolling off her shoulder.   
“Now, questioning will be tomorrow, love birds, “the last part was accompanied by barking laughter and the guards trailed off. If the questioning was tomorrow that meant the Khajiits would have two more days of remaining here. They needed to get out of here before that. Patience though. 

Casting a quick glance over Erador she didn’t see any open wounds at first. Good, no open wounds would mean no big blood loss. Though internal injuries might be a problem and she wasn’t entirely sure how much a healing spell would work on those. If she just knew whether he had been beaten after being knocked out or was it just the head? What did Danica sometimes do when she got a guard as a patient? Didn’t she sometimes prod at some areas to make sure there were no internal injuries? Shifting him she started with his chest, it was firm but it still gave in. Was this a good sign? She put her hand on her chest to compare. Hers was kind of the same, but softer. They had let him his clothes, so she slipped a hand underneath the tunic to lift it up. In the dim light she couldn’t see any blue or black colourings. Though that didn’t mean anything necessarily. What would she give to have Danica here to tell her what to do. Moving down to his stomach it was the same feeling. So he had a little chance of having an internal injury. Biting her lower lip she lifted her right and closed her eyes. Her magicka surged as she called on it and flowed with a gentle golden glow from her hand over to him. Safe is safe. It took a while, but then he groaned quietly nearly causing her to lose her control over the spell. Quickly glancing over him she saw a creased eyebrow and more fluttering of his eyes. Just they didn’t open to her frustration. Maybe give a more concentrated dose to his head? She put her hand on his forehead and repeated the same, feeling some tension leaving his body from the way he slumped further against her. Then finally he opened his eyes. Confused he looked around. 

“Ayera?”   
“Yes I am here” she whispered as she let the spell go and moved behind him to sit him up properly without any help from her. Then she shuffled from behind him and sat on her knees in front of him.   
“You look like a bear mauled you” it was a poor attempt at a tease, but it brought a crooked smile to his pained expression.   
“I suppose that happens if they beat you up.” He turned his head and back.   
“We are in a cell right?”  
“Yes, wizard.”  
“If you think your teasing would make this situation better you are sorely mistaken.”

He was definitely his old, arrogant self again. Smiling she crawled closer and mumbled, “You had me worried.”  
“I suppose getting myself arrested wasn’t my brightest idea” he sighed and ran a hand through his hair while looking away. Was he uncomfortable?  
“So, we are in a cell now and stripped of our possession.”  
She nodded and added, “Also we are brought before Ulfric tomorrow”, then with a lowered voice, “We have to be out of here by then.”  
“Yes of course, any idea?” looking to the cell bars, she asserted there was no one listening.   
“I have found a grid down to the sewers, but before we do that we need our stuff back if they haven’t confiscated it.”  
“Most probable scenario. The daggers we both are too uncommon to just remain in the prisoner’s belongings chest.”  
“You know about those?”  
“It is the same system in the Isle, you are arrested we take your belongings and lock it in a chest until proven innocent or released.”  
At least she didn’t have to explain this anymore to him.   
“Though for that to happen we need a lockpick and I have none.”  
“Don’t guards have one?”  
“They do or we somehow get the key.”  
When she said “key” he sat up straighter. “Ayera, do you know the telekinesis spell?”

No, she didn’t. The ones she had asked couldn’t and there had been no opportunity to visit the College for it. So she only could shake her head.   
“Why can’t you?” As soon as the question left her mouth, she realized how stupid it must have sounded.   
“I have a splitting headache which you have lessened, but the telekinesis spell asks a lot of concentration which I cannot bring at the moment.”  
“Suppose that means we need to wait now.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are at the end of the Whiterun arc, I hope you like it.  
> As before, do tell me what you think, I try to reply. I am just bad at checking my emails.

Waiting as it turned out was a longer process than she had imagined. There was nothing to do and talking was only done in hushed and quick words, nothing when the guards were around. The sparse light flickered across the floor and the steady drop of water accompanied the heavy forced silence between them. While waiting she had shifted herself with back on the wall next to Erador, close but not touching. It had crossed her mind to huddle together to dispel the growing cold, but recoiled internally from the idea. She remained as close as she felt comfortable in doing so, but didn’t come close to touching him. Erador only raised an eyebrow at this, but didn’t say anything for which she was grateful. So all she did was count the water drops and hope that a guard was inattentive enough to get the keys.

Until then she cowered in the darkest corner of the cell, curled up tightly and tried to calm herself. She shouldn’t have lost control over herself and stabbed him, a sneer formed on her face, but at that point she had just wanted him dead. More than anything, more than Ulfric even.  
At one point she lost track of time, the only indication was the sudden drop in temperature, making her shiver even more. Still she couldn’t bring herself near Erador. Feel too dirty… and closing her eyes brought the images right in front of her eyes and the sensation of his fingers on her bare skin made her gag. How could she even allow that… Nord to touch her in that manner. Oh Auriel, he had done the same with Saadia and a shiver ran up her spine causing her to shake more violently.

“By Auriel”, she heard him snap and suddenly his left arm was around her and one side of her face pressed against his side, “your shaking makes me itchy. Cold?” She wanted to smack him really for his audacity of daring to touch her. Just it felt too sheltering to her. No it shouldn’t, why did it feel like this? Tensing up she decided to endure his awkward embrace for the sake of keeping warm. How did he manage to be so warm? When she still didn’t respond, he sighed, “I don’t know how you feel right now, “ she creased her eyebrows, please shut up about it, “but I am not blaming you.” What did he just say? He didn’t blame her for what had happened? Moving her face up so she could see his face there was a distant expression on his face. This time she would ask.  
“Did”, her throat hurt, so sore it was, “it”, she hesitated a bit, but pressed on more softly, “happen to you?”

  
His arm around her tightened and she worried for a moment she had angered him, but when he looked down on her, she saw no anger.  
“No not what happened to you, but something…” he swallowed, something difficult to talk about, she shouldn’t have asked, “similar.” The following silence was just uncomfortable with Ayera fidgeting in his hold. She shouldn’t have asked that. Get away. Just as she gently tried to disentangle herself, he spoke up again “No, it is alright. Sometimes we need someone to hold on to.”

That was confusing. She didn’t need someone to lean on, had been fine all those years. What about… Don’t go there; she dispelled the thought with a small shake of her head. Then she shifted her focus back on Erador who still seemed to be quite content in hugging her. What was he doing? She was confused, but right now he was warm enough in this cold cell. Burying her head in his chest, she inhaled, finally getting rid of some of the mossy smell. Unfortunately, she was shaken out of her comfortable position. Grumbling she looked up again.

“Ayera, I really think you should know the telekinesis spells.” Why did he think it would be the best situation now to start practicing that particular spell when he was able to do it just perfectly? Her botching up their best and most likely escape route was utterly completely stupid.  
“Not now.”  
“Obviously, but once we are out I need to teach you.”  
“Why do you even have that idea?”  
“Because it is useful.” That was one of the worst arguments she had heard.  
“That is not your real reason why.”  
“It is, woman, just take it as it is for now.”

Why did he get so defensive? Not like she had questioned his magical prowess. Though she couldn’t really get rid of the inkling that similar event he had mentioned was the real reason why he had suggested it. If his reaction at Loreius farm was connected to it then he needed as much comforting as her right. Drawing herself closer to him she laid an arm across his stomach, forming a strange embrace in all sense. All he had to do was accept it, if he so chose. At first he didn’t seem to notice, but neither did he tense up on her more intimidate gesture. Sighing she resigned to the fact that this was all she would get right now and she didn’t care. He was still the arrogant mer who had blackmailed her into cooperation.

Just at some point something changed, during their little brawl in the Loreius Farm? Possible, but what had exactly changed? Well from the obvious less restraint to touch each other. Sometimes she had the feeling he wasn’t the Thalmor he sometimes portrayed himself as. Typical arrogant, jerky and hateful Thalmor agent. His behavior didn’t really… how to say, match up with that image. At one point she will know, until then she would learn what set him off. Wouldn’t be much of an enjoyable journey to finally be able to get strong enough for Alduin if she antagonized him too much.

Then the arm around her squeezed shortly, briefly, but she knew it had been there. She only rolled her eyes at his reluctance to show anything too much emotional. Even if they were in a bloody cell. Men…

“The guards are surely not here a lot”, he was right, the torches on the wall had burned down considerably since the last time one had graced their presence.  
“Are you ready?” her response was only a terse nod. How was she supposed to conjure up a guard with the right key right now? She didn’t know that spell.  
“Well how do you think we get one right now?”  
“Do some noise?”  
“So they beat us up again?”

He frowned, but noise did sound good, because yelling for the guard specifically wouldn’t get the guards of their arses. What would get them inside and look what was going on? Prison riot? She shook her head immediately dismissing the thought. They would be executed on the spot. Think from the beginning… What do the guards think you are? A married couple and the Thane of Whiterun. Well Ulfric knew who she would be once he saw her. He must feel so smug right now, having caught her after years of evasion and dancing on his nose. She might have provoked it by being in plain sight but never recognizable in her disguises. What would he do with her? He had told the people publicly that she was a pretender not the real one. Maybe he was, she really wasn’t sure anymore whether she was the Dragonborn. Not when she failed so miserably so far. Now she understood Saadia’s disappointment. All those expectations from all those legends and then everyone having different images how she should be.

No wonder some wanted a different Dragonborn than her. Some wanted a strong Nord who wielded a war hammer or some others imagined the most talented Mage in all of history. She wasn’t either of those things. Creating an image of expectation of her she could never fulfill would lead to such disappointment, that she could understand. Even when they told her outright that they thought that she wasn’t adequate to be the hero of legend. Just why not accept it? Why would he denounce her as a pretender and parade someone more fitting into Ulfric’s imagination? The Thu’um wasn’t something you could learn in days as some had imagined and the Greybeards had years of meditation before using a word and then they barely spoke. Ulfric might be an exception, but how many words did he know? Why not say he is the Dragonborn himself? What was that bloody bastard thinking?

“Any idea?” No, she got sidetracked. Happened far too often. A married couple arrested for the wrong reasons was their cover and what would cause for an excused noise? Having sex would be something, but maybe the guards might join in and she felt already sick thinking about it. No, not for a long while.  
“Why are you blushing?” How dare he tease her and how did he even see that? But she wouldn’t tell him that, he would only make fun of that.  
“I was…”  
“…thinking of simulating sex with me?” He completed to her utter humiliation.  
Oh Sithis… this was creepy. To her embarrassment he only chuckled,  
“Don’t worry I don’t want to either and frankly I think you had enough of those encounters for today.” Sometimes she really wanted to kiss him if he wasn’t a kriffin Thalmor.  
“Any better option?”  
“We just wait, when they come for food we will be able to get the key.”  
“That is in the morning with more guards”, she deadpanned.  
A sigh, “I never had to do this before.”  
“Me neither.”

Another silence hung between them until,  
“Ayera, is that you?” a faint question came from the cell opposite them. Was this…? Could it be? Farengar! Lurching towards her bars she pressed her face into the cold steel. She squinted her eyes into the darkness, trying to look into the opposite cell.  
“How many times have I told you to just cast a magelight when you cannot see anything?”, yep that definitely was Farengar who had patiently explained to her how to appropriately use magic. Not that she had kept it in mind in the end.  
Groaning she did the familiar ritual for a mage light and the gentle light popped into existence in their damp cell. The white blue light however managed to make it even look colder than it was. Looking back another one had risen opposite them.

“Why haven’t they executed you?” Ayera asked breathlessly.  
“Because I am valuable to them due to my dragon research and Ysolda had established on her first court day that she would be known as the merciful one in that relationship.”  
“So they are married?” she asked.  
“Yes, the girl had Ulfric smitten to the point of insanity. Probably helped that she had some trade connections. Divines know how much coin they need.”  
“War is expensive” Erador finally piped up finally.  
“Someone knows” Farengar’s sarcasm never died did it?

“Of course I know, who doesn’t?” Men…  
“Well, that only confirms my suspicions that you are only a brute.” She gave up.  
“Oh yeah? At least I am not sitting on my arse fat and do nothing!” Hang on… they were doing noise, at some point a guard would come around. She just needed to fan the flames a bit. This was perfect, only she had to suppress the urge to laugh at the situation. At least they could keep themselves going for now. Manly pride at its finest she supposed.  
“At least I have a brain!”  
“Repeat that Nord scum!”  
“Oh the almighty altmer can’t live with the fact that we live in the same space? I am so sorry that your accommodation is not how you wish it to be.” He was really provoking it, wasn’t he?  
An amused snort came from next to her, “I highly doubt you are a powerful mage, Nords are known to possess little prowess in that area.”

That must have hurt.  
“I am probably more powerful than you.”  
“You got no girl laid, that is sad.” She sucked her breath in, that was below the belt.  
“And you can? Ayera, how can you tell me he is better than me?”  
“Wait that was you and not the Dragonborn?” Kriff.  
One lie exposed… Sithis be damned. She had a lot of explaining to do once they were out. Right now she only managed a sheepish smile at him.  
“You were that embarrassed?” Erador inquired, more softly.

Divines, she really didn’t want to have that conversation here with him in front of Farengar whose dignity was probably dying there.  
“I was drunk!” was Farengar’s defense.  
“A Nord who can’t function properly while drunk is no true Nord! What a light weight!” Erador bit back.  
“You elves can’t hold a single drop of Nord mead.”  
“I can do it while pleasuring a girl on my lap.” Ayera only wanted to die in shame right now.  
“Oh is that how you got Ayera as your wife?” Did he actually buy that lie?  
“Of course and my magnificent tongue.” Mortification was definitely a cause of death. She slapped Erador hard on the back of his head. Definitely deserved that one.

“Nothing else? Too small down there?”  
“More than you do.”  
There was a thumping noise and she quickly dispelled her mage light. Couldn’t risk them draining her magicka as well as they had conveniently forgotten. Idiots. Farengar followed suit while both of them finally shut up. Heavy footfalls, boots were heard and a guard rounded the corner shouting “Silence before I come and cut your tongues out.”

Ayera could only look at him and the key ring at his belt. Was it moving? Maybe from the movement of the guard, but not like that. Erador knew what he had been doing, bastard. Riling up Farengar wasn’t really necessary or was it just him needing to cool off? Poor Farengar.  
Fortunately for Erador the darkness prevented the guard from seeing his keys disappearing into the air and gently floating over to them. Finally something worked in their favour for once except the accidental even planned spat just before now.

The guard only huffed when he was met only with silence and walked out slamming the door behind him. Just then the key ring floated through the cell bars and right into her waiting palm. That had been easy and the triumphant smirk on his face said it all. Closing her hands around the ring she shuffled to the cell door and looked around to make sure there was no guard or from the sound coming.

“Only one guard to guard us?” Erador frowned.  
“There used to be more but I am guessing the war and the riot thinned the ranks out quite drastically”, Farengar whispered the response. No more animosity? Was this all planned and she hadn’t heard it?  
“Someone’s loss is someone else’s win.” That was morbid.  
She only rolled her eyes at that comment and conjured up another mage light. Spared her some embarrassment by padding the bars for the lock. At least there were no guards in the cell hall at all.  
There was the lock. She tried the first key, it rattled and the sound echoed stopping her in her tracks. The males also silenced while all of them strained to listen for any guards to come back.

“Any louder isn’t possible, is it?” Farengar complained. Ayera only gritted her teeth, she will punch his nose once she let him out.  
The second key didn’t even fit into the lock. What a great beginning and on went the tries with the occasional biting remark from Farengar. There were too many fucking keys on this ring as she tried and tried until finally it didn’t rattle but made the distinct and faint click of an unlocked door. Erador was instantly by her side, pushing lightly against the door. Ayera flinched when it creaked in its hinges, but no guard was coming. Much thanks Sithis….  
Carefully he pushed the gate further open and Ayera crawled out, dispelling her mage light in the process. Everything was silent and the door at the end of the corridor stood out slightly with the different wood colours. Lifting her upper body up she sat on her knees assessing the risk sneaking towards the door and listen for any indication of the guard still being there. Not that it mattered really, if he saw them he would be dead, but that would take a while to clean that mess up. She would rather avoid coming across any guard and having to go through the trouble of killing them silently and then getting rid of the blood stains and the body. Too much trouble in so little time to do it in.

The process of shuffling across the floor to the door was nerve-wracking as it could get. Were guards coming? What if they saw her? What would happen if…? Her heart started pounding as she drew closer and closer to her temporary destination with Erador on her heels. He shouldn’t come she thought to herself, but it was already far too late to say anything. She pressed one of her ears to the door, trying to hear through the vibrations of the wood whether there was someone in the adjoining room. A gentle touch, fleeting really, drew her focus away. In the dim darkness she only saw Erador holding a strand of her hair in his hands. Oh no… was it the white part? Oh Sithis, it was, what was she going to do? Frantically she made a grab for the strand gesturing what she hoped he would understand as “later”. He let her do it, the hair slipping from his loose grip like it hadn’t been there at all. Guilt nagged at her gut, his betrayed expression in the grey black tones punched her in the gut. Why did she feel like this? May Talos have mercy on her soul.  
Sighing she reached out anyways to touch his hand, but he withdrew it quickly, leaving her hand outstretched and her chest constricting painfully. So much more explaining to do once they were out. How could explain all this? Sighing she returned her mind to the listening at the door, pushing down the guilty feelings. Not the place and time.

There was nothing, could be the guard was asleep or not in motion, risk it or not? Waiting for a few more moments of held breath there was still no change in sounds from the door. Tentatively she reached up and pushed against the door while twisting the handle. The door swung out silently which she was grateful for. A snore tore through the silence she had experienced from outside the door and made her freeze in her tracks which caused Erador to bump into her back. She had to put her hands to the front to catch her fall, but slight grunt escaping her throat was enough to wake the guard. Frozen in place she looked on with horror that his eyes blinked open lazily, before shooting wide open. It was as if time had slowed down; the guard shot up from his seat to sound the alarm. Her limbs refused to obey to her no matter how much she internally screamed at them to move and stuff his mouth. Erador was faster than her, his fist connected to the man’s temple with a loud crunch she only winced at. Then he slumped into his chair out cold. Any other time she would have felt guilty, but her surviving her own home town was more important.

The guard room was relatively well lit for it to be in the middle of the night, but how else could she explain the sleeping guard at his post. Two chests were at the far corner and with the key in hand she tip toed over. Not that she needed to tiptoe. Better be safe than sorry. Solid wooden chests was her first assessment with a sturdy steel lock. Difficult to break open if worse would come to worse and the keys wouldn’t all fit. Taking the first key again she tried, nothing except rattle. Erador occupied himself with staring at her back. She knew he wanted to lash out at her form his tense posture to the clenched jaw. Only if she knew right now how to explain it and if the time were the right as well. But nothing was ever going right for them. The silence was weighing on her by the time she got to her fifth try and it finally clicked.

“What is your problem?” she asked softly while lifting up the lid seeing her dagger and cloak neatly folded.  
“Not now” was the gruff response, but at least he eased beside her, sifting through it. Everything was in there, the two daggers, the pouches and thankfully their cloaks, something to obscure their faces with.

“But once we are out you owe me some answers”, she could only nod at the demand. Like she had much of a choice in that matter. Hopefully he wouldn’t sulk at this for too long.

Wordlessly she held out his pouches, the dagger he had lent to him and his cloak. He took without any hesitation or any indication they had the conversation just now. Swallowing the lump down in her throat she strapped her dagger on her back alongside with her pouches. All the while listening to any more footsteps approaching them, but the only sound was the rustling of cloth.

They were done only a few moments later, now having everything back taken from them. Ayera really wanted to count her septims again, just to make sure no greedy guard had served himself. Would be stupid to do it right here, but she needed to make sure everything even her hair dye was still there. Well the hair dye was pretty much obsolete now. Could she explain it by just saying he hadn’t given her any opportunity to say it or never asked?  
What was in the other chest though? Her curious part took over as she crawled over it. Erador only frowned and made a hurried gesture to the door but she ignored it. What was in the chest had overtaken her mind and she was going to know it. No risk no gain, all the great treasured hidden in Nordic ruins were in those dark corners. Her dagger had been more or less an accident found. Falling through a trap door hadn’t been her most glorious moment, but finding the blade had made up for it.

The key to the previous chest didn’t fit into it, nor a few others she tried. She kept on trying until the last one yielded no result either. Frowning she contemplated picking the lock simply to satisfy her curiosity. Just what are the risks? The longer they spent here the more likely it is for the guard to wake up and to be discovered by another one walking in by chance. Should she? Yes? No? The thief inside her wanted to, the assassin wanted to just get out of here. Deftly tugging at the pouch’s string she produced a lock pick out and started to assess the lock. A quiet groan from behind her indicated Erador’s frustration. She could only roll her eyes at his antics. So far she only had positive experience in going into dark areas, why not here? He could sulk all he wanted, she was going to know what is in that chest.

Not that he could leave without her when he still needed her. Right, he only does it because she had something he wanted. However, that thought didn’t seem to work anymore with all that happened. Don’t get distracted she admonished herself and returned to rotating the pick slowly. It was a difficult one for it to be in the guard section of the Keep. All the while she kept poking and rotating the pick until she would finally find the spot where it would open. It took a while and several strained nerves when she thought she had heard someone approaching and several fidgeting attacks on Erador’s part before there was the faintest click and she had the spot. A victorious smirk grew on her face as she successfully unlocked the lid and lifted it.

  
It was empty? What in Nocturnal’s name? The chest itself was empty except for sealed letters on the bottom. Why would they keep sealed letters in this chest? Erador crawled next to her. Did he sense her confusion?

“Letters?” a quiet inquiry and a raised eyebrow. Might as well read them she thought and took the first out. The yellow parchment rustled when she turned it around and froze. There sitting in the middle of the closed pages was the red wax and the broken seal. The bear of Windhelm. Oh no… What was Ulfric writing and why was it in this chest? Was this the evidence chest? Why would they put it out here and not in the treasury? Only one way to find out, read the letter.

To Jarl Balgruuf the Greater, Jarl of Whiterun,  
It has come to our esteemed rightful ruler of Skyrim’s attention that you house the false Dragonborn in your midst and believe her spiteful lies about her being the savior of this world. This woman has no right to claim such prestigious title. Our investigation into her claims it was found that there is no solid evidence that she possesses the power. The guards who had most likely witnessed her apparent absorption of a dragon soul when a dragon attacked your watch tower were bribed. The enclosed letters are proof of her vile corruption and greedy attempt to grab power.  
By the hand of Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak of Windhelm.

Ayera was shaking with fury. He dragged her name through the mud and if those evidence pieces he mentioned found had been believed by the right people then no wonder they had been sold out. Was this why people bought that the Nord presented at the execution was the real Dragonborn? How could she have not seen it? Her lack of presence? Had all this doubt grown simply on her failures of not being a Nord, Lydia and her lack of strength? It must have been easy if she had provided the basis and Ulfric only had to plant the seeds for it. Her vision wavered. No, please no crying. Resolutely shoving the letter back into the chest only for a hand to stop her.

“Evidence should be secured, Ayera. It hurts I know, but think of tomorrow for once.”  
Gritting her teeth she wanted to slap him for his rationality at this point. Glancing around, she got aware of their situation again. Then she looked back at the pile of letters lying at the bottom of the chest. Should she take them? Why would she? Not like they would help her except she really needed to undermine Ulfric or blackmail him. In case… just how likely would that be? Just take them!

With a heavy weight in her stomach she stuffed the letters into the front of her tunic; she would read them all later. Shutting the lid again she felt some weight lifting off her shoulders. All this had been schemed and executed to perfection and she, the one who lived in such machinations, didn’t even fucking see it coming. How stupid could she get? He would pay for this… if it was the last thing she did she swore to herself.  
“Erador I have some unattended business to attend to”, she didn’t even recognize her own voice anymore. Cold and emotionless. He frowned and she expected protests. Instead he only squeezed her shoulder in return. “I know… do you need me to come?”

Why wasn’t he trying to persuade her otherwise? Was he going to ditch her as well?  
“Ayera, you want revenge and who am I to stand in your way?” Maybe it was best if he came along. She knew of a corridor leading to the court room and with it being night time it all should be fairly deserted. It was worth the risk to settle the score and give Ulfric the message the slight wasn’t going to be taken. Even if she had to take away something precious to him like he had taken her home from her. Ysolda was the obvious target, but she wasn’t entirely sure whether she would hit Ulfric close to home. She had heard rumours of him reclaiming the jagged crown. It would be heavily secured and with him at all times. His symbolic claim on Skyrim. How quaint would it be if that were to disappear?

Before she was going to do anything however,  
“A few rules if we are to do this.”  
He looked confused at her sudden demand, but she really didn’t need him botching up this.  
“No sound and you follow my lead no matter what comes” she didn’t mean to sound so stern, but this was the experienced thief and assassin leaking through. To her satisfaction he nodded. Weird… Don’t question it, just do it already.

The door at the other end of the room away from the dungeons in her memory lead to the kitchens and from there the stairs up and you were in the court hall. Ulfric would be occupying the Jarl’s chambers and there would be the jagged crown. No question. Anything else would be decided later.  
The guard was still out cold and she was positive he wouldn’t wake when they finally returned. Though she had no idea how long someone would stay out cold after such a punch.

“How long do you think he will be out for?”  
“I don’t know, maybe in a short while. By then we have to be back.”  
“Or knock him out again.”  
“What if he controls the cells when waking up and then sounds the alarm?”  
“We run if that happens. I know Dragonsreach and its escape routes, trust me.”  
“Trust you?” he snorted which earned him a slap on the forearm.  
She was quite positive the kitchen staff would be dead asleep by now, most likely no guard there at the door either. All relying on the safety of their locks, how naïve. All the better for her.

The kitchen was deserted as she had expected, as she gingerly pushed the door open and looked into the deserted and dark space. Were there sweetrolls on the platter over there? Water ran into her mouth and she felt tempted to stuff one right into her now growling stomach. Though she knew once she ate one of those delicious treats she was most likely to vomit hours later. It had been worth it every time. A look shared with Erador and both of them dug into supply of food laid out in front of them. She purposely avoided the sweetrolls, no need to vomit on the crown. Baked potatoes and grilled leeks were a welcome change for once and munching he observed Erador tearing into a grilled chicken breast. It felt exhilarating to stuff themselves full while actually trying to rob the arrogant Nord upstairs of everything.

A full stomach usually procured better results in her experience. The unpleasant experience fighting a draugr in an exhausted and dizzy state had been enough for her. Maybe they should steal some more leeks and baked potatoes as supplies? It would definitely relieve them of any hunting or any obligation to stop by an inn, especially with the jagged crown in their backpacks. Deftly she stuffed any leeks and potatoes in the tiny space remaining in her pouch with Erador raising an amused eye brow at it. She didn’t really care, all she knew was that a hungry stomach was the most unpleasant thing to fight with.

As quickly as their eating frenzy had started, it finished with them cowering near the corner leading to the main kitchen area where the hearth was still blazing. Silently she peeked around the corner. Bed rolls were strewn across the floor with the servants peacefully snoring in their slumber. No guards from what she could see. Carefully probing the wooden boards for any creaking ones she walked in a crouched position to the stairs leading up to the private dining area, just adjacent to the banquet hall or how some called the throne room. Everything was too deserted for her taste. They should have encountered at least one guard by now, but there was none. All drunk on their victory or was this all a trap? Panic seizing her heart she was about to call this all off when she saw a long shadow move across the wooden boards in the throne room. Someone was moving.

“Any words from the false Dragonborn?” a familiar deep voice said and her eyes narrowed. Ulfric…  
“No, though some guards arrested a woman for looking like the Dragonborn, except the hair. They confirmed that she looks like her when I showed them the picture on the bounty letters. You want to interrogate her now?”  
“No, all in due time tomorrow. My claim has to be fool proof; I have a deal to propose to her simply as that.”  
A deal and bounty letters…? Then she vaguely remembered Erador mentioning a bounty in Eastmarch. But this seemed like a bounty which crossed holds. That was… unusual.

After dragging her name through the mud and making the citizens of Whiterun doubt her legitimacy of her claim as Dragonborn? Well, as a blackmail method it would work, but to make it work as a long standing deal it was a rather foolish notion. Huffing silently she imagined his dumb look when the crown was missing. Well, he would have no deal when he would find the cell empty that is. It took nearly all of her self-control not to start snickering. That was why there were no guards. Ulfric wanted some alone time with Galmar, his most trusted adviser. No wonder….

“And Ysolda?”  
“She will serve her purpose soon enough and bear me an heir.” Poor Ysolda.  
“Surely you could have done better.” Better? Ysolda brought merchant connections with her and she was beautiful no doubt. Just sometimes she doubted he had thought that one through.  
“Galmar I am…”  
“If we could have gotten the Dragonborn on your side and you had married her, we would have something the people would accept.”

Her and Ulfric? That was ridiculous. Self-serving Ulfric would have gotten nowhere near her bed and she would have trouble just thinking of babes between them and the process would be a constant battle. It would be cruel but if he wanted heirs with her, he shouldn’t have insulted her very being the first time they met.

“Alas, she hates me and I can only return that feeling. Any heir between us would constitute of rape and that is not honourable.” Oh so he had some shred of honour left in his body. But dragging her name through the dirt was honourable?

“The deal was to make her look like the dirty and whoring liar that she is and then we can use this to our advantage.”  
“If the woman in our custody is truly the Dragonborn we can discuss this further, but I need to return to the rest of the court.”  
“Of course, my jarl.”  
“The crown?”  
“Safely locked away.”  
“Then I return to the reception as should you, old friend.”

Heavy foot falls were heard and the scraping of wood as the two bulky men made their way to the living quarters in Dragonsreach. Locked away… so the Jagged crown could only be in a vitrine or a closed off room. She knew Ulfric’s paranoia in these things, it had followed her around for so long. It would be close where he would be and that were the Jarl’s living quarters where he was residing without a doubt. Then there was where they needed to go. Even if they had to kill along the way.

It took a while before she felt it was safe enough to continue sneaking further into the room. Well it was deserted so it was really wasted effort in that sense, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a trap somewhere waiting to snap closed.  
Nothing happened. Did they really think she was that weak or did they even doubt it was her? Galmar himself said that she looked identical except for the hair colour. Her elven ears had probably poked out. Damn them. Furthermore they might have seen the white batch by now and did the necessary conclusions. Get the jagged crown and get out of here.

Peeking around the wood pillar she took in the familiar throne room. The fire in the middle was simmering low as it should during the night. Long shadows were cast on the dais leading to the throne where Balgruuf used to sit. Who was… oh right, Vignar Gray-mane was now the Jarl. He must be writhing in that tremendous honour. May he choke on it.

Silently she stepped into the open room while having the balustrades up there in case someone was looking. Not that they could see much from where they were in the shadows, but too excessive movements would raise some suspicions. Someone would come to investigate and they would have to kill that person. She’d rather avoid that. Hiding the body would take too long and the scraping of a limp form across the floor would echo in the high ceiling and that would draw more people to their location.

The boards creaked quietly, freezing she listened for any indication of any detection. Nothing, slumping her shoulders and trained her eyes on the narrow steps in the distance on the dais. Up there and through the doors to the Jarl’s quarters. Wasn’t there another way in through the steward one as well? She immediately discarded that idea, if she was correct then Vignar would be sleeping there right now as a higher ranking guest would of course occupy the best chambers, as well as the most secure. That was their destination, maybe her most daring heist so far. No matter, she was the Master thief, with Nocturnal on her side, she could not fail this.

Getting up to the dais was going to be difficult. It was in the partially lit and staying the shadows would be immensely difficult. They could of course go a longer route to the stairs and on the other side, climb across the railing and then up the stairs. What would be best? Scanning the upper balustrade again, she saw no one walking up there, the one on her side was another story. Only know she realized how close Erador had crawled. His lips were nearly touching her hair where he thought the ear was, “What is the problem?” his voice was so quiet as a gentle breeze. She only ignored him, what had Farengar said. Use your magicka if you don’t know anything else. Just she had never really looked into illusion magic. Erador might know. Turning around to him, she reached out with a hand to find his face in the darkness thrown by her own shadow. Touching something small, his nose? Now she knew where his ear was, so she shifted towards him with her mouth right beside his ear. They were close, too close her mind started to scream when his knee was right beside her upper thigh, but she was beyond care other than the jagged crown at the moment.

“I don’t know any illusion spells”, she could feel her breath hitting his ear lobes and the hissing intake of breath. A miniscule sigh and a dark blue glow appeared under her chin.  
“Detect life”, she breathed in recognition. Karliah sometimes used it, but she had never gotten the hang of it and never someone to show it to her since Karliah was away as often as she was, so they usually missed each other.  
“No one in the hall”, he said.  
“Upstairs? Directly above us?”  
“None.”

Good news so far at least. Silently dashing across the wooden boards, they reached the dais with the throne. There on it laid the familiar and hated bear pelt Ulfric usually had on his shoulders. It stank usually, that hadn’t changed she realized with a wrinkled nose. Should she set it up in flames when they sneaked back? No, too obvious. Quickly they disappeared into the shadow of the steps leading up to the balcony and the jarl’s quarters. Now this is where they had to be very careful, guards would be most likely be posted in front of the chambers and inside. No noise. On the upper stairs where the floor began she stopped and slowly rose slowly to peek across the edge. Indeed, there were guards stationed at the door. Stoically. How to get past them? A distraction? But then they would go down the steps where they were. Should they risk scaling up the walls? She had done it once, when she had gotten into an ill placed bet in the inn and lost. Was doable if the wind didn’t blow too badly and she had gotten to the window of Balgruuf’s office. It was risky if they tumbled down they were dead. No doubt about it and there was no guarantee Ulfric was currently not in the office when he just had walked in. Or he was tired enough to go straight to bed? Sometimes it irked her if she didn’t know anything about her enemy. Even if it was purely because of personal insult.

Use one of their invisibility potions? But then they would have to wait for an opening and standing on the steps was risky. A distraction but what kind of? If she could move something away from them… Then suddenly the doors to the balcony opened and she quickly ducked into the darkness of the steps again. It was Galmar again who spoke up, “You two, you are needed on the balcony.”

What are they doing with the balcony? Another twisting feeling in her gut, but she pushed it away. This was the desired opening and in the probably brief distraction they would have enough time to slip in. The getting out was another story but right now was getting in had been solved and with a smirk she watched the guards scurry to the door and inside. Quickly before anyone filled in their posts she scurried across the floor and to the door. Reaching for the knob she thought it was unlocked. The smirk on her face vanished when the door didn’t move. Bastards had locked it… Grumbling she reached back into her pocket and looked at the lock again. Probably was a tougher lock to pick than the evidence chest. Kneeling down she inserted the pick and rotated it. It was hard, she had known it, but the pressure was building on her shoulders. The guards could come back any time. Sweat started to trickle down her brow and her arms began shaking slightly. Biting on her lower lip she tried again, attempting to control her breath.

Finally it clicked. A look to Erador, which he thankfully understood as casting another life detection spell again yielded only minimal presence in the foyer. Where in Oblivion were the guards? Such minimal security was not logical when a riot just had occurred right at the execution! Shaking her head she gently pushed the door open revealing a dark corridor where they both slipped into and immediately closed the door behind them. Complete darkness surrounded them and she held her breath. Only his breathing was there, no shuffling or any indication anyone was there as well. She knew these parts, the steps up were just to their left. Grasping blindly into the darkness she brushed his forearm. The next moment she felt his presence in her back which raised the hair on her neck. Physical contact was something she could never get used to no matter what.

Carefully and slowly she guided him up the stairs, squeezing his arm and tugging him along .It worked without any major incidence and they reached the podest leading to another door. Light beams were on the floor. She knew there were steps leading up to the chambers and the office. The jagged crown must be in the office and anyone in the chambers in the bed. Turning the handle as slowly as possible, since that door was creaking all the time even when applied with oil in its hinges, she opened it. The corridor up there was deserted, thank the Divines.

Motioning Erador to follow her, she closed it behind him and sneaked up with him on her heels. Torches flickered every now and then, casting shadows on them. She didn’t like it, a rather tell-tale sign. No sounds were heard except their muffled movements across the floor boards. The door at the end was firmly closed. Erador recognized when she took out another lock pick and turned his back as a look out. Not that it mattered; the lock here was fairly easy since she had done it once already.

The office itself was deserted and dark. Casting a magelight on to the middle of the desk illuminated the room in the cold blue light. Papers were scattered on the desk with no apparent order. Temptation was great to sift through them and see what was going on right now in Skyrim. First priority was to turn everything on its head and find that damn crown.

In a hushed voice she whispered, “You look through the papers I do the rest.”

He didn’t question it at least, but grabbed the first letter on it and read it with a furrowed brow. The first cupboard yielded nothing except a few neatly bound files. Not what she needed. She dashed to the next one carefully opening the doors only to be greeted with some clothes. Sighing she closed it again, moving onto a chest. The lid was closed. Her senses perked up. If the crown wasn’t in there she would sell the nightmother. Though, knowing Ulfric’s paranoia he would have commissioned a trap for any foolish thief.

Unfortunately for him she had traversed too many Nordic ruin to not see that one coming. Just where were the cords which in her experience would either trigger a dagger shooting at any vital places, usually covered in armor. Just now she had a tunic on. No protection whatsoever. Usually such traps were somehow connected with the lock itself preventing any unwanted eye. Nasty little contraption if anything from the ruins was to go by. Spears or arrows shooting from the walls. There were no apparent cords which would snap and set off the trap when the lid was lifted. Glancing around the room she took in the walls to look for any suspicious openings which would release any arrows on the unwary thief. Nothing, so the trap wasn’t outside but inside the chest. She could lock pick it just not immediately open it and do it from behind?

“Erador” he didn’t look up at first when she hissed it as quiet as possible through her teeth, too immerged in the current parchment of whatever Ulfric had been scribbling. The next call of his name was louder and accompanied with her throwing a book at his head. It hit him in the temple and fell down in a dull thump on the floor.

“What is it?” He sounded annoyed. Well, if he had listened the first time he wouldn’t have gotten the book in his face.  
“I will open this chest…”  
He looked incredulous, “You threw a book at me so you can open a chest?” It was hissed and anger seeped through every word. Next time they were alone she would slap him.  
“This chest is rigged and you are in the firing line.” A frown and then he realized what was going on.  
“Do you really have to open it?”  
“Yes, I have a suspicion Ulfric’s crown is in there.” A wide-eyed look, before he practically scrambled over to her. Picking the lock took an eternity and after the sixth broke Ayera felt like she didn’t care anymore whether they should smash it or not. Patience, she reminded herself as yet another one broke. This spot was nearly impossible to find, but she would find it. After all she was an assassin.

The click she had waited for was so faint she had nearly missed it, but she finally had him. Turning the lock slowly and carefully, Erador made his way to the back of the chest, getting out of the way already. The lock was broken open. Ayera slowly and carefully twisted her body so that the pick was still in the lock, but she was behind the chest. Grasping the lid, she slowly opened it.

It sounded as if an arrow had been loosened and it hit a jug sitting on top of a wardrobe, causing it to fall down and shatter in tiny porcelain pieces. Oh Sithis. Quickly she dispelled the magelight spell and waited with bated breath whether someone was coming. Nothing, only silence. Where were they all? Another light rose up, this time it was Erador who had cast it. Almost over eagerly she crawled around and looked inside.  
There the crown was in all its toothy glory. Whoever bothered wearing that was an idiot, but apparently it was worth enough in its symbolism. Ulfric will miss it greatly she hoped. Reaching inside her fingers brushed the cold steel and smooth texture of the teeth adorning it. It was a clunky bit of junk with too much symbolism laden on it due to tradition.

The door creaked.  
With her heart surging into her throat she whirled around with Erador.  
“Ulfric, love…?” There in the door stood Ysolda, all sleepy in a nightgown. That sleepy expression morphed into one of terror when she recognized who crouched there in front of her.  
She mustn’t scream!

Time slowed down for Ayera as she jumped up and onto Ysolda knocking her back on the floor with her hand over her mouth and on top of her stomach. This woman slept with Ulfric, the one who had murdered her friends and probably enjoyed it too. Ysolda was thrashing beneath her, gripping her arms, her nails digging into her cloak, her legs flaying uselessly through the air. Disgust swept through her. This woman doesn’t deserve to live. It was almost an afterthought to gag her if she hadn’t stabbed Ysolda through the throat hindering any sounds coming through. Blood flew on her already bloody cloak and face, but Ysolda was still moving. Just stop moving! Lifting the dagger again and stabbing it in the heart was like watching herself from far away.  
It took a while before Ysolda’s death throes finally subsided and only a pool of blood on the carpet. Erador said nothing, he seemed rather detached from this all as if it didn’t bother him. Not that it mattered anyways. They had the crown, his wife dead. Ulfric’s life lay now in shambles. Ayera felt herself grinning. Was this the madness which had taken Cicero?

“Ayera?” Erador’s voice reached her eyes, it was muffled and she brushed it aside.  
Then someone grabbed her shoulders, lifting her off the corpse and turned her to face a calm looking elf.  
“Snap out of it!” No, this was too sweet of a victory.

She didn’t see the slap coming, it hurt but it brought her out of her stupor.  
“Ayera, you murdered Ulfric’s wife.” Shouldn’t he be happy about it? He groaned at her confused look.  
“Usually I am happy if that happens, but we are currently right where he has the most power.” Unfortunately he was right; Ulfric did have more power here and if the corpse was found they would find themselves in deep trouble, if they still were in the city. What if she threw them off track maybe? It wasn’t uncommon to summon an assassin if something major like the conquest of Whiterun happened. If she were to just drop a big hint that the Dark Brotherhood had been here. Well she was, but to make it apparent it had been just a contract, nothing personal. That would throw them off their trail for a while until they caught on.  
“Ayera, are you with me?” Yes she was, just thinking. Nodding she gripped his hands and squeezed them indicating he should let go. Was charcoal somewhere here? Mixed with water it would make for an excellent paint.

“I need charcoal and water” she whispered to him. In response he only lifted an eyebrow but pointed to a drawer and a jug sitting on the table. How convenient…. It was quick work. Drinking the excessive water, she threw the bit of charcoal in the jug and stirred it with her dagger. Erador observed her all the while. A trick she had picked up with the thieves guild, old Delvin had several of those tricks up his sleeve. Once she was satisfied with its consistency she dipped her hand into the mass and took it out again. The hand would hint massively towards the Brotherhood and quite frankly if Nazir heard of it he would be roaring in laughter.

She felt no remorse when she pressed her palm flatly on Ysolda’s face, disfiguring her face with a black hand across her considered beautiful features. It was done, all they needed to do was escape, get their armor and be well on their way until dawn broke. Taking the jagged crown was another problem however, how to transport it? Her pouch was too little. Turning to Erador he seemed to have a knowing look.  
“We need extra cloth to protect the crown if I assumed correctly you don’t want it damaged.”  
“Yes,” she walked to one of the wardrobes which she remembered had a few tunics in they could use. Wrapping the crown in was not easy, the teeth were troublesome, tearing through the cloth in various places and needed further wrapping so the pouch around Erador’s shoulders wouldn’t be damaged and give them away.

They were done and stood there in complete silence in front of the corpse that was once Ysolda, merchant and wife of Ulfric the Pretender. Getting out of the chambers was easy, nothing had changed in the desolation of the jarl’s quarters. Their only problem now were the returned guards at the entrance. Could they evade them? Kill them? No, those men were trained to fight off any sneak opponent. One of them would be able to raise alarm even if she and Erador were to take on both. Just the door had to open. Distraction on their side and make the guards investigate. With the bottles ready on their lips, Erador raised his right arm with the orange glow she had come to associate with the telekinesis power. A vitrine loudly scratched across the stone floor.

“What was that?”  
“You sure no one went in?”  
“Of course idiot, the door is locked and no thief could ever pick it.” Ayera had to bite her lip severely in order to burst out laughing. Might have been difficult, but not impossible. How naïve were those two?  
“Just check.” Good. The door handle moved and moved down completely. Ayera could imagine the faces the guards made were those of horror.  
“Shit, we need to see after Lady Ysolda. They are going to have our heads!”  
“Not when Galmar Stone-Fist can attest for our innocence.” How optimistic. Erador and she gulped down their potions in one big sip and the familiar tingling feeling spread through her body a she disappeared from sight.

The door was kicked open and two guards stormed in yelling “Lady Ysolda.” Damn, others will hear it; she just dashed to the open door, knowing they needed some time to arrive first. Distantly she hoped Erador was following her. They couldn’t afford to be separated. An arm grabbed her when she skidded across the stone floor to the steps leading to the throne hall. How could he have found her? No one was coming running, but they couldn’t rely on that. Down the steps they flew and through the still empty throne hall.

More yelling and somewhere sounded a horn. Sithis, they had found her. It was only a matter of time when they would come down to the jails and check on them. Hopefully the guard down there was still knocked out.  
Stomping, people were coming. Running further they rounded the corner into the foreroom to the kitchen. The staff had just awoken by the commotion caused by the guards. They just managed to run down the stairs silently enough for the confused chatter amongst the staff. The door they had entered in posed the next problem. It would be too obvious, unless they were to run upstairs.  
“Assassins!” came the roar from upstairs, causing the men and woman here with them to panic, they jumped up and ran upstairs. Giving Ayera and Erador the perfect opportunity to slip into the foreroom of the jail again. The guard was still knocked out, thankfully and they hurried into their cell. Just as the potion lost its effect.

“Do you think you can pick the lock on this grid?” He looked stressed, guards would no doubt come any second now and look for them or torture them just on the suspicion alone. Nodding fervently she got to work.

“What happened upstairs?” Not now Farengar, she thought as she reached for a new lock pick, reaching underneath the grid, working on the lock.  
“I do not know”, Erador said as he closed the gate behind her and locked it with the key. Then he crawled to her and threw the key down. Her inquisitive look was only answered with a raised eyebrow. The shoulder pouch was quickly hidden behind the body in the corner. She nearly had the lock.  
“You sure? Sounds like an awful lot of it. Who did you murder?” Ayera flinched and lost her current position. Cursing she tried finding it again, which cost her two more picks. It was gravitating on her nerves, her flight senses screaming and every sound making her jumpy.

“We didn’t murder anyone” Erador bit back.  
“Oh well, if not then I suppose they will come down and tell us soon enough, but I suppose you won’t be there.”  
It clicked and Ayera let out the held breath. The grid swung down revealing the access to the sewer system of Whiterun. She looked at Erador jerking her head to the grid signaling him they could move now. A nod and he grabbed the pouch, slung it over his shoulder while she turned her lower body into the hole, letting herself hang in and then dropped herself down. It was not far of a drop into the shallow water, still enough to make her knees protest when she failed to bend them correctly. Erador followed suit soon after, leaving the grid wide open.

“We have to close it” he assessed while craning his neck up. Looking to her again, he seemed pensive. Oh no, he is not thinking of….  
“Hop on my back, you can reach it then.” He did. Reluctantly she approached him earning an impatient huff. Without asking he grabbed her around the waist causing a surprised yelp to escape her and lifted her up. These days she really was going to slap and kill him. Her hands at first only grasped air at first, because she couldn’t just keep her balance.

“Stop moving, just trust me I won’t drop you!” Trust this mer? Out of question. She wiggled a few more times before there was an exasperated sigh and with a lurch her heart was thrown into her throat and her stomach did a flip. Her head also connected with the grid, she hissed at the sharp pain. His hands grasped her upper thighs now, effectively giving her less movement area. But now she had the grid in her reach now. Sithis, it was heavy, her arms were shaking and she was biting her lip while lifting the heavy steel up. Her arms were fully stretched when the grid finally locked into its original position again with a dull thump which echoed through the tunnels. No loud talking then.

She looked down the tunnel in the direction the water flowed. It was a gentle flow and she knew the tunnels would lead directly out of the city walls if she remembered correctly Lydia saying when they had first gotten to know each other. Maybe they could get Farengar out as well… his cell would be connected to them as well, somehow.

“Are you thinking of freeing him as well?” Erador had let her down partially and her ear was close to his mouth as he set her down. She only nodded as an answer. Right now she needed to think how to get to his cell’s grid in this darkness. Casting a mage light would be too treacherous as they would no doubt pass several grids and if Ulfric were to come in seething with anger he would notice. Then they would be dead, her hand would give it all away. Had she forgotten to wash it? Damn…, though the black paste wouldn’t really be too obvious in the dirt and grime of the cell, but still. She had left some very obvious clue. Bending down she sloshed her right hand in the water, watching the black paint trickling away with the flow.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and pulled her up again. Erador had a grim expression on his face and jerked his head up. She froze and heard the dreaded footfalls of approaching people. She scrambled up and they waded through the water, trying not to cause too many ripples. In the darkness of the tunnel they came to a stop, as they heard the door to their cell hall was kicked open, the wood hitting the stone wall with a loud crack. Louder foot falls and the murmuring of several guards. How many were there? Ten? Then a frustrated howl. Ulfric?

“Where are they?!” Ayera could only imagine a raging conqueror in front of their empty cell. Did he really think she wouldn’t be able to escape? Something rattled.  
“My lord, the cell is locked; they couldn’t have escaped through there.”  
A distinct pause.  
“Then tell my why their things are missing and why they are gone.” He was definitely losing his patience.  
Another set of foot falls were heard.  
“Sir, there was an assassin in the keep. Lady Ysolda bears the marks of the Dark Brotherhood.”  
A very deep and gruff voice spoke up, “Assassins? Cowards, I think the assassin sneaked down here and freed them by giving them the keys.” Good, they bought the plan.

“Galmar, if that is true, then they are probably still together. I want them found, send your men out on the streets and look for those bastards.”  
“The gates had already been closed, my King. They won’t escape.” That was where they were wrong. Not while they didn’t know about the sewer system. Most of the guards seemed to file out and probably relayed the order to turn everything upside down for them.  
“Why haven’t they let out Farengar then I wonder?”  
“Probably no use to them. We know the Dragonborn has ties to the underworld and that was probably a favour done by them.”  
Silence.

“My lord,” Galmar visibly hesitated, “the crown was taken as well.”  
“How? The chest had a trap which would have instantly killed them.”  
“I do not know, we underestimated this person this time. Next time we know.” Given the circumstances Ulfric was fairly calm Ayera noted. Too calm. Something was not right, but they had no choice but to remain still in order to not disturb the water.  
“They can’t have gotten far, the paint on her face was fresh, not even dried yet. We will catch them, no mercy, I want them dead on the spot.” They had hit him hard, too hard for his pride.  
“As you command, my Lord.” Please, just leave already, don’t ask Farengar.

“Shall we ask the wizard?”  
“No, he won’t answer. Still too loyal to the former Jarl.”  
“Oh, I can tell you where they went.” Her head snapped up and wide-eyed she looked up to Erador’s equally stunned expression as both tensed up. Farengar a traitor? Not even he would do that, he was not a Gray-Mane. She should have killed Vignar as well, really.  
“Do tell Wizard.” How would he like a dagger in his throat and suffocating slowly once he is done?

  
“You see, this black figure stepped in,” was he going to, “and at first I thought that it was a guard since the torches had gone out.” Ayera breathed out in relief and sacked against Erador’s chest who deflated as well.  
“Go on”, a simple command from Galmar.  
“Well, I found it strange that the person unlocked their cell and ushered them out saying ‘be glad the Listener still finds you useful’.”  
“The listener is an actual person?”  
“Oh the listener is the only one who can hear the Nightmother’s voice”, Farengar commented as if it was the most known fact in Nirn. Though sarcasm wouldn’t really help in this case. Ulfric just lost his symbolic claim and a wife. There was no imagining if he felt just a little scorned. Don’t provoke an already furious man.

  
“Right, “ Ulfric’s voice practically dripped with contempt, “and further?”  
“Well, they scrambled out and then they were gone. Nothing more I can say to that.”  
“Why haven’t they rescued you as well?”  
“Why should they have? I am just a lowly wizard who has no ties to the Dark Brotherhood.”  
“Was this woman in that cell Ayera, former Thane of Whiterun?”  
“I haven’t spoken nor have I actually seen her, so I cannot say.”  
Another pause from Ulfric’s part.  
“My King, if…”  
“We’ll discuss this matter somewhere else, Galmar”, it was hard and on edge.

Then they were gone. Ayera fought her heart to calm down and looked into the darkness of the tunnel again. They couldn’t afford any more delays until they widened their search to the outside of the city and they would definitely start with the Khajiits. She couldn’t tell if she could trust them not to tell where they were if the right amount of gold was held under their noses. Not that she blamed them; she would do exactly the same if it were strangers.  
Water splashed silently as they trudged through the tunnel with hands on the walls as not to miss any openings. It was a long tunnel and the darkness was weighing her down. It shouldn’t, darkness was her element, but this was too much. Casting a mage light was still too risky. Suddenly her fingers only grasped emptiness and she nearly stumbled at the surprise. Would this lead to Farengar’s grid?

Turning to her left, she set a tentative step in front of her to probe for any unseen openings. But Sithis, this all stank so badly.  
“Hey, “she nearly jumped when Farengar suddenly spoke directly above her.  
“Don’t make me bang my head.”  
“Then don’t be too frightened.”  
“Well, I am the seemingly the only one being able to handle a lock pick well”, narrowing her eyes at where she thought he would be in the darkness was really a waste of energy.

  
“Is that a threat after you stuck around to probably bust my incompetent arse out of this exquisitely smelling chamber?” He was really overdoing it now.  
“You know I can’t do anything, I am too small for this”, she drawled sweetly and Erador groaned. His hands were on her waist again and lifted her up easily. Was she that light? Shaking her head slightly she got to work on the lock. It was easier now since she knew how to do it from her experience with the previous lock. A click and the grid swung down, completely catching her by surprise, and hit her in the back of her head. Yelping she felt herself tipping forward and she feared falling on her face. Erador’s arm wound around her chest, not that it was for lecherous reasons, but her face burned when she realized where his hand was. Not her shoulder, but lower… oh, it was comfortably warm. What was she thinking? She really needed a lay again. His body suddenly tensed up and he immediately set her down with quickly snatching his hands away.

“Would you two love birds mind getting out of the way”, just leave it to Farengar to go and burst into any situation. Looking on the floor she stepped forward, making space for Farengar to jump down. He did that, landing right in between them.  
“So, now we need to get moving.”  
“Well as you heard the city is on lock down.”  
“Fortuntately, the sewers go out of the city.”  
“That was some stupid planning then, if they connected the sewers to the prison.”  
“Usually we have prisoners who are not that competent as you”, Ayera could hear the wink in his voice. How did he keep such a good mood?  
“You are a charmer”, she ushered him the way back to where they had come from.  
“You know where you are going?”  
“Hate to break it to you. We are practically taking a stab into the dark here.”

Farengar only huffed and Ayera could feel his annoyance. She was pretty sure Erador did as well, but she couldn’t tell in the darkness. Sometimes she couldn’t read him that well.  
“The sewers follow one simple logic, always straight and when there is a junction go right.”  
“You studied the tunnel system?”, Erador sounded incredulous. Ayera only wanted to laugh, sounded like Farengar she knew.  
“Oh yes, Irileth and I had looked at the plans of them when we were looking at some potential escape routes for the jarl.”  
“Why haven’t you brought him out?”  
“And lead him straight into the battle field? Balgruuf wanted to stay and fight, was rather easily defeated I hate to admit. I only had so much time to destroy the plans. Right now I am the only one knowing them.” Smugness practically dripped from his voice. What had she ever seen in him? Maybe she had been just too over eager when flirting with him.

“Lead on them, oh great wizard”, bit Erador back. Shrugging she dismissed his annoyance for an issue to be dealt with later.  
“With pleasure.”

The rest of the way they remained silent except the occasional command from Farengar to turn right or keep walking. All the while in the dark, she was hesitant, Farengar seemed to know what he was doing. No need to cast a light and then be potentially detected because a cold white blue light was not the usual warm golden light from torches. A shame really, knowing the sewer system was useful and not having any clues where to turn robbed her of any chance to vaguely memorise. A clairvoyance spell would help; it would really but the soft blue glow showing the way would just betray them in the end.  
She lost track of time in the darkness. Was it still night? Already morning? How much more? Was she actually dreaming? Had all this been a bad dream? The only thing tethering her to any sense of reality was the sloshing of water with boots trekking through it. Briefly she wondered whether Skeevers lived here, would make sense, they ate the dead things. She hated those little kritters, dirty, disgusting and carrying diseases. Normally she wouldn’t even use her daggers to dispatch them, but either arrow or magic.

It felt like an eternity, but then she suddenly bumped into Farengar’s back, they had stopped. Were they there already? Before she could ask, Farengar spoke up,

  
“We need to climb up now, there is an opening which will lead us directly out of the wall to the plains, just outside of the view of the gate guards.” Oh great, where was she supposed to grip anything in the darkness? At least they would emerge outside any prying eyes.  
The bright light stabbed her into the eyes causing her to squeeze them shut quickly, someone had summoned a Mage light. Grumbling she opened them again letting them adjust slowly to the brightness. Erador was looking up and she followed his gaze. She needed to swallow, it was a steep incline they needed to take and it was high as well.

“Well this is the route the Jarl would have taken if he could have escaped through here, alas there are some moulds you can put feet and hands in.”

That was some relief, not having to scale such a wall having to find some hold on anything. She had done it once with Lydia when nothing else had worked. It had resulted in a broken leg on her side, nothing she could fix with a simple healing spell, but the shock at tumbling down had gone down to her bones.  
It was a slow process, first Erador who reached a small opening and squeezed through. Then it was her turn. Slowly she moved her arms, reaching for the first few moulds. They were slippery as she had expected, but not enough to slip. Her arms strained and were about to shake when she reached the edge. With a huff she pulled herself up and nearly fell backwards when an arm shot forward, grabbed her by her left forearm and pulled her towards the small opening. She fell out and landed on her bum. Cold autumn night air hit her face, shivering in the initial moments she drew the cloak closer around her shoulders. Stars were shining this night, she was thankful it was still night, easier to slip away.

Once Farengar slipped out she started thinking again, she and Erador needed to get their armor from the Kajiits now. They were probably still there, but around a fire. Sighing she ran a hand through her hair, she seriously needed to colour it again. Turning she squinted her eyes to see where they exactly were. Away from any platforms for the guards to walk around at least. Furthermore she could look directly at the Mountain with the Throat of the World. So they needed to sneak right and then get their armor undetected. Sighing she began thinking of a how to proceed. The Battle-born farm wasn’t far from here. Not sure whether they would be there with the lock down on the city now and even if she highly doubted they would tell any Stormcloak that they had seen them.

“Now we need to get our armour”, she nearly jumped when she heard Erador’s voice next to her ear.  
“True, we need to go to the right.”

At least he didn’t question it and Farengar just followed. That is how she sometimes preferred company, no arguing about any sneak maneuvers.  
It was too easy, sneaking around the battlements out of the view was easy. The guards couldn’t see well from outside any torch light into the contrasting darkness. As a result, Ayera motioned the mage and Erador to wait while she crouched close the ground and crept to the large tent where she knew the armor would be. A single grab and they could get moving. She flipped the furs up and slowly robbed inside. No Khajiits was there, all sitting around the fire eating whatever they ate, maybe getting high on Skooma as well. There not far from here the beige cloth they had wrapped it all in, smiling at the for once for something successful she grabbed it and pulled it out with a grunt. Ebony armor wasn’t the lightest and her daedric weapons , leather armor wasn’t as light as a feather either.

The men were waiting for her, with a grim nod they were on their way, off the road to avoid any encounters. With her armor slung across her shoulder she only looked back once to Dragonsreach, its lights glimmering softly in the distance. This had been her home, once… No more. Ulfric had taken that away from her. She had taken his wife and crown, equal exchange for ruining and taking the stability out of her life.


	11. Chapter 11

Stars still were up in the black sky, when they all three decided they needed to rest. Tired and shaking in the biting cold which only grew worse the longer they wandered, they huddled together with Ayera summoning a small flame to warm themselves with while discussing where to stay.

  
“Ayera, you know this area better than I if I remember correctly,” Farengar had dropped his sarcastic nature for once, he was too tired to do anything else. She had a frown on her forehead, running through any nearby places she knew would be safe to rest at.  
“Silent Moon camp, cleared it out two years ago with Lydia…. Farengar, I am not sure whether it is safe again. Bandits come and go.”  
Silence again, this was daunting.

  
“Wasn’t there a smuggler’s grove just nearby?”  
“That is just underneath the city, we would have to go back for that.” The flame flickered slightly, she had to concentrate again to keep it on a tight control.  
A sigh, this time Erador’s.

  
“I doubt we can afford sleeping in the open, once Ulfric finds out we are not in the city anymore he will expand the search into the plains. Honestly, I rather have something hidden on not on a discourse when we need as much distance between them and us.”

  
He had a point and they were close to a giants camp as well, disclosing that bit of information would only lead to a frantic Farengar. Halted Stream camp was occupied again from what she had heard, but Silent Moons camp she hadn’t heard anything about. Should they risk it? Maybe get one of the two to cast a detect life spell again? Like they had a choice, they were tired, sleep was needed before they needed to go off tomorrow.

  
“Silent Moons camp it is, just cast a detect life before we settle for the night.”  
“I highly doubt it, the place is cursed to the common folk after you raided it.”  
She hadn’t heard of that, but she hadn’t listened for it either.  
“What kind of curse?”

  
“Well it used to be a Nordic burial crypt during the Dragon age,” would explain the structure then, “with a mysterious forge of legend inside it, “ it was just a normal frigging forge which an unusual enchantment “and people kind of deduced that the dead bandits will therefore haunt the walls.”  
She felt her lips twitch, this was actually amusing. That could work in their favour really, ghosts were a rare phenomenon and she hadn’t done anything to the bodies after death. The soul would be already in Sovngarde now, unable to be reprieved. Turning her head she looked into the distance where she had a vague guess where it was.

  
“Are we near the Watch Tower?”  
“We passed it already.”

  
They could be close by, but there were caves as well. Just not something she would deem low risk. That would also mean that they were far enough away to keep a light on them now. Hopefully she didn’t let her focus slip in that time. Any slip and uncontrolled magicka was a catastrophe. Her legs were heavy and it took some internal fighting to keep walking and not stopping. Judging from the silence and the various stages of panting from behind told her the others were the same. She felt slightly sorry for Farengar, more of a scholar than an adventurer, he was struggling the most keeping the pace up and the cold didn’t do them many favours. Though she supposed he was a Nord, they were known for their cold resistance.

  
Her little flame suddenly illuminated grey-black brick wall. Stopping she concentrated on the flame to grow larger. It was a small round hut. She knew those, they had reached Silent Moons camp and from the looks of it, Farengar was right when he said that it had been deserted for years.

  
Their tiredness made them abandon the task of collecting firewood and start a fire to scare of any wolves. Erador cast some runes near the entrance, he had looked tired, drawn face and drooping eyelids when the pale blue glow in his hand illuminated his face. He should sleep, tomorrow it will just plain marching, whether with Farengar was the other question. Maybe he had a family somewhere or maybe a lover? Who knew with him?

  
Unceremoniously they all slumped on the cold hard stone floor after Ayera and Erador discarded their pouches and the cloth with the armor in. It was cramped, her elbow was sticking into Farengar’s back, while Erador’s knee was poking her uncomfortably into her waist. A snore soon rippled through the air. He was fast asleep and judging how the knee slipped downwards to her hip bone pretty damn out of it as well. Smiling to herself, she turned her head away from him only to come to a halt when she felt rather than saw Farengar’s stare on her.

  
“We need to talk”, a pause, “is he asleep?”  
“Yes, he is”, she said softly. Why did she care?  
“Ayera, if it’s true what Ulfric said you have stolen the crown yes?” Was he not going to scold her for killing Ysolda? Somehow she felt… nothing still. It was almost as if someone else had killed her.

  
“The crown. I have studied it, made from dragon teeth. Ayera, I had thought about it. Your … being is known to be chosen by Akatosh himself, chosen by the chief deity. Who else is fit to wear that crown other than the Dragonborn?”

  
“A crown which was traditionally seen one for the High Kings and Queens of Skyrim.”  
“True, but think of it. The first emperor of the Empire was Dragonborn, elevated to Talos, banned by the Thalmor, now you are the last one according to legends. If there is something you have a right to is the throne of the empire.”

  
She had no claim on any throne. The last of the septim line died childless, a new dynasty had risen to power whose former leader she had killed. All in all, she had no claim whatsoever on any kingdoms or Skyrim. She was no Nord, no jarl to be elected in a Moot. If she had married Ulfric, divines forbid that made her gag, she might have had a chance if he won this war. Just she doubted he wanted the Halfling in his bed even if she was the Dragonborn. Even he denied her identity as he had called out another Nord. Maybe he knew the Thu’um, but she was pretty sure he wasn’t Dragonborn. She was the last one according to legend. Not that legends were always true, but she couldn’t feel any power humming in him like she did whenever she encountered any dragons like Paarthurnax.

  
“Farengar, I am no heir to any throne nor does me being Dragonborn give me any right to a seat of power.”  
“I know, but the people of Skyrim have great respect to legends. Even if you are not a Nord, you are the verification of their beliefs. They will pay attention to what you have to say.”

  
“But needing a crown for it? I just stole it to kick him in the balls.”  
“Which you have successfully done no doubt”, a sigh, he was tired.

  
“Look at it this way, you two will be travelling all across Tamriel, just getting away from Ulfric’s influence in the first place.” She narrowed her eyes, all she wanted was sleep. He had a point though, where would they put the crown? Taking it along was out of question. It would only hinder them.

  
“Suppose you are right, where would we put the crown though?”  
“I would propose that I take it.” Not that she didn’t trust Farengar, but giving the crown to him would only increase the risk of it falling back into Ulfric’s hands.  
“Where to?” she pressed out in the end.

  
“The Mages College is now but a burned husk,” she gasped involuntarily, “Ayera, the first thing Ulfric did on his conquest march was ask the College for its help in the war. They refused, which for the Stormcloaks was something akin to siding with the empire.” So that was no option to hide it either. Biting her lower lip she continued listening to Farengar, “I was thinking of visiting an old friend of mine,” he emphasized friend and she had the feeling she should know who he was talking about.

Just the connection eluded her. His voice lowered several tones and whispered, “The Blades are protectors of the Dragonborn, at the moment in hiding if I am correct. Delphine would be delighted to hide the crown and support any claim of yours.”

  
She had no claim, she wanted to snap at him, though her lips stayed closed. Not that it mattered, the Moot calling out the High King or Queen was absolute in these things. The more pressing concern was that he knew about the Blades. Delphine had been very conscious about her secret identity and she highly doubted she would have disclosed such a thing to the court wizard of Whiterun that readily.

  
“Delphine didn’t tell me, I made my own conclusions from the way she held herself as a warrior instead of a normal inn keeper, then her suspicions of elves no matter what. I confronted her with my guess, she denied. In the end she somewhat warmed up to me due to my dragon research and we exchanged information mostly.”

  
That was why Delphine had been there that day in Dragonsreach? She was speechless, Farengar was into this kind of delicate secret and not even once said anything.

  
“Look I am not about to betray hard built trust just because you are Dragonborn. This had been her business and she had found a way to contact you from the last time I had spoken to her. I trust she had found a place to hide, right?”  
She could only nod, this was too much to take in and all she wanted was some sleep before going off once they were up.  
“We will discuss it in the morning, but I suppose you haven’t told him about you being the Dragonborn.” She was, but thinking that felt far too detached and not like it was her.

  
“No I haven’t.”  
“Might be best to do it now”, she shook her head, “Ayera, lies have a way of being found out and keeping it secret for longer will mean he will be angry for a long time at you.”

  
Once she trusted him enough and thought that the offer of helping her defeat Alduin was sincere and not a Thalmor plot then she will tell him. Not earlier. Hadn’t they gone through enough already? He didn’t abandon her in the riots if he had thought the other one was the real Dragonborn. He believes you…. It was rather ironic that he believed her, the professional liar. Of all Thalmor, she had to encounter the least cruel one behind the façade. Sometimes she thought the Divines or some daedric prince liked playing a twisted joke on her.

  
“I rather…” she started only to be gently interrupted.  
“I don’t know why you don’t trust him enough. But it is not for me to judge. Right now, we need to sleep and we will discuss the rest tomorrow.”  
How did he expect her to sleep with this kind of knowledge? He knew about the Blades. Discussing anything Blade related in front of a kriffin Thalmor was a death sentence.

  
“Farengar, he is a Thalmor.” A sharp intake of breath and a hand clamped down tightly on her shoulder.  
“Ayera, this is dangerous. He might not be someone who looks for your destruction, but some others might.”  
“As Ulfric is doing? At least they are offering me help to accomplish my destiny”, she hissed at him. Let her shoulder go, please. Too many had touched her already lately.  
“Is that what they promised?”  
“Yes.”

  
A sigh.  
“And you feel like it is your duty to take any help to save this world?”  
“Yes. It is my destiny according to the legend.”

  
“I see what you were thinking and I find it sad that there is no more help we in Skyrim can offer except pave the way for you when you return ready.”  
Frowning she turned her head in his direction. What was he going on about?  
“What are you saying?”

  
“Sometimes I wonder what made you so daft”, he replied irritated.

  
“What I am saying is that I will go and will be recruited as a Blade, in my capacity as a wizard and dragon research I will aid them getting back on their feet. Furthermore,” a slight pause and she heard him swallow, “once you are back, this land will probably governed by Ulfric Stormcloak and I doubt he will ever forgive you. When you need to come again, we will be ready and there to aid you in your quest.”

  
Tiredly, she propped herself on her elbow, the grip on her shoulder went away only to be replaced by him gripping her hand. She froze. They were rough, rougher than she had in memory. Now they didn’t hold the warmth anymore she had felt in the beginning. No bodily reaction of hers, she was no longer attracted to him, for a long time.

  
“Ayera, I swear to thee,” her throat was dry and she couldn’t interject, “that I will follow this oath for the rest of my days.” Was he seriously going to do an oath on that for her? How foolish was he? Oaths were easily broken and undermined no matter the circumstances.  
“To prepare the way in Skyrim for your return and to defeat the dragons once and for all.”

  
She’d rather not have an oath weighing on her while preparing for her defeat of Alduin. The Blades already were expecting her back and she couldn’t really lead Erador right into their sanctuary. For all his friendliness, he was still a Thalmor. He would kill them all in a glance and she couldn’t prevent it.  
Farengar squeezed her hand again before letting go.

  
“Sleep, we will have to discuss this with him tomorrow,” Farengar shifted and after a while she could hear his breath evening out. She was just too overwhelmed by his oath, she couldn’t get her eyes to close and to slip into sleep. Not good, she needed her strength for tomorrow, for she needed to face one consequence for taking the crown. Turning her head again to Erador’s side, she wondered whether she would be able to ever fully trust him. He was sometimes considerate with her, sometimes can be described as gentle, but other times his temper showed again he was a Thalmor agent through and through. Before she could formulate any other thoughts, she had fallen asleep.

  
They didn’t sleep long. Anticipation of pursuers finally catching up had made them unconsciously wearier of sounds. A rustling in the bushes had Erador shooting into a sitting position making a grab for the sword underneath the cloth. That woke up Ayera as his knee was shoved in more painfully into her side. Grumbling she opened her eyes seeing Erador with his sword in hand looking bewildered. She shot up as well, making a grab for her dagger, blinking rapidly to dispel the heavy eyelids.

  
There they sat weapons ready with Erador looking frantically to the left where she had a vague memory Whiterun was. Were the Stormcloaks on their trail? Heart speeding up she strained her ears to listen for the tell-tale foot falls of heavily armored Stormcloaks. There was nothing until there was another rustling. She and Erador exchanged a glance, Farengar was still peacefully snoring, and back outside. Assassins? Not those bound by the Dark Brotherhood for sure, but there were plenty of independent working killers for hire. They couldn’t come to close for now with the runes placed by Erador. She needed to get her bow.

  
Twisting she reached for her bow in the cloth, when a sleepy Farengar woke up looking confused at the battle readiness of his two rescuers. Instantly he was up with a flame spell in his hands.

  
The familiar weight of her daedric bow was comforting after a time of separation. Hooking one of her lesser quality arrows, she waited with bated breath while Erador peeked around the corner. They sat like that for a few tension filled moments until Erador visibly relaxed.  
“It was a rabbit.” A rabbit, her stomach growled. When was the last time she had eaten? No matter, this evening there would be rabbit stew and some of the supplies from Belethor this morning. Hooking the arrow more fully she took aim and waited. A white-brown flash appeared in the corner of her eye and she released. The arrow struck true and with a wail the rabbit was dead.

  
“Oh”, was all what Farengar said when she went to retrieve the carcass. Erador only looked passive when he dispelled the runes.  
Back in the cramped space, Farengar spoke up again after taking a hearty bite into a grilled leek,  
“What are you going to do with the crown?” Ayera had expected the question, Erador nearly choked on his bite. Coughing he responded, “Why does this concern you?”

  
“Because running around with the crown and if I am not sorely mistaken you are hunted as well”, he lowered his leek and stared at the mer, “I know who you want, ever since you enquired about her in my office I had an inkling why as well.”

  
Erador only sat there frozen with a slack jaw, she nearly felt pity for him.  
“The Dragonborn has the true right to this crown.” He was stubborn in his idea that she should wear this relic of ancient times. What good would it ever do for her? All she had wanted was hurting Ulfric, with more fatal consequences than planned.  
“If that is so, then we will give it to her,” he had cast a glance at Ayera, she didn’t want to be involved so she looked elsewhere chewing on the leek. He frowned but didn’t mention it.

  
“No, she trusts me and I’d rather be the one giving it to her when she returns to her roots.” So she had to visit him in Sky Haven temple for that. Given if he had been taken in. If she returned was the other question, but she wasn’t keen on wearing that uncomfortable spiky looking thing on her head. Looked more of a stabbing hazard than anything else.

  
“Why should I give it to you?”  
“She would never trust you.” That hit too close to home for her liking, she had to fight to flinch too obviously. She had said that yesterday, maybe, everything was too hazy from her tired mind, but it still twisted in her gut, like when she told a lie to Lydia. What was the lie, what was the truth? She didn’t know anymore.

  
“You say that now.”  
“I know her longer than you do and I have the perfect place to hide it as well. You would only be more conspicuous with that kind of baggage.”  
“And you wouldn’t?”  
“I am the wizard, they are not probably looking for me yet.”  
“But soon they will once they realise you are gone too.”  
“Well, then they will be pretty confused as to how, you were gone while I was still there. So they have to assume there was another infiltrator broadening the search.”

  
Ayera only frowned, sure they will think that, but then they shouldn’t assume that Ulfric won’t make the connections first and his wrath while grieving was something uncalculated. Her gut clenched, if she just hadn’t killed Ysolda. Had she not been her friend at one point? No, don’t go there, not now. Right now the living retaliation was hanging above them.

  
Chewing through a particular sinewy part of the leek she returned her focus on Erador. Clenched jaw and closed fists. He was on the verge of shouting. Maybe she should intervene and say something in Farengar’s favour… He had sworn his loyalty to her yesterday and their goal had been accomplished, Ulfric was mightily pissed and his pride had taken down a notch too much. That was enough for her, not like Farengar thought of an imaginary claim to any throne. She had no noble line to show, maybe she did but what use was it to her if she cannot remember any of it. One thing for sure, they were not in Skyrim or weren’t interested enough in her to search for her.

  
“Ayera what do you think?” damn Erador for directing the whole decision making to her. Now she had to think of an answer which wouldn’t piss off any of them.

  
“The Dragonborn is very distrustful to strangers even in company of her closest friend”, she said slowly after having swallowed down a bite, “she would trust Farengar more, Erador.”

  
Erador had pressed his lips together and had narrowed eyes. She knew he didn’t like parting from that crown. A piece of victory over Ulfric, but in the end it was just a metal thing with teeth on it. Didn’t look comfortable to wear to begin with. Reluctantly he got up and unwrapped the crown from its cloth. In the day light it seemed small really, nothing to spectacular. Though, Farengar’s eyes grew as large as plates as he saw it.

  
“The crown from legends…”, he whispered while taking it carefully from Erador’s grasp while inspecting it from various angles.  
“I will take good care of it. Rest assured.”  
“Where will you go?”

  
“I have some connections who will more than happily provide shelter and safety from the Stormcloaks.”  
Farengar wrapped it up again and made a make shift pouch out of the ends of the cloth. Not the most ideal solution, but it had to do.  
“Are you going now Farengar?” she was genuinely surprised when Farengar got up and his intentions were clear to leave.  
“There is a small time frame where I can reach my associates and be safely away out of Ulfric’s reach. You two should get moving as well, we aren’t that far away yet.”

  
That was true and they should get moving again as soon as possible. Just she wanted to don her armor and strap her weapons on before doing any of that. That tunic had been enough already for her. Also get the hair dye on…. She wasn’t entirely sure whether Erador had his suspicions on her being a Halfling with her question on bastards when they were walking to Valtheim towers, but no need to fan them either. Going around with a white patch in her hair was enough.

“Yes, we should.” She would have to deal with Erador’s temper later, right now they needed to get moving as soon as possible.

  
“We should change into our armor”, was all she suggested before getting up and walking towards the stream in front of the camp. There were usually mudcrabs around here, she remembered. Nasty little critters that were aggressive when approached too close. None were there, fortunately, but she wouldn’t count on it with it being early in the morning. Crouching down she searched her pouch for the hair dye bottle in the mess of bottles and some other supplies. It took her a while to find the tiny black glassed bottle. Carefully she tilted it into her left hand letting three drops fall on it. Setting it down on the grass in front of her she tucked the white strand in front of her face and scrutinized it. Not too large as she had initially thought, but large enough to raise suspicion. It was done quickly, a dip in the cold water and rubbing it in. Her hair was black again and she looked like a lowly Breton again. No trace of her altmer heritage except for the shape of the eyes. No one looked at that kind of detail most of the times.

  
Erador had put on his boots and was doing the straps of his chest piece when she returned. No acknowledgement. Was he mad at her for speaking against him this morning? Sending Farengar off with the crown? Sighing she looked at her armor pieces waiting to be put on. Might as well do it and lose any more thought and energy trying to figure him out.

  
Getting out of the tunic was a relief for her, no more worrying about the neckline drifting down and the occasional itch from the wool. Casting a glance backwards to Erador she saw him putting his gauntlets on. There was a long and thin scar running along his forearm. Looked like an injury from a dagger slash. Shaking her head she turned back to her armor again.

  
She needed more time than he did, especially with the strappings for her bow and arrows. The amount of arrows she still had was troubling. Not even a dozen she had left. In Morthal she needed to restock immediately if she wanted to last as a refugee from Ulfric. Unless they were facing shortages in armor as well. Biting her lower lip again she strapped the quiver to her back, followed by the bow. She had been delighted when she found her assassin cowl in one of her pouches again. It would obscure her face. Better than nothing

  
Approaching Erador right now wasn’t on her priority list. He was probably still angry at her. Petty elf, always pissed off at something. It was just a stupid crown which now gone with Farengar was no more use to them. Ulfric would be furious trying to find it, but in the end it was just a stupid symbol for some traditional Nords.

  
Fingering on her last leather straps of her gauntlets, suddenly a hand came from behind and took the straps from her. Looking up she saw Erador finishing her last gauntlet. “Stop thinking and get moving.”

  
Rolling her eyes, she shouldered her pouch and stepped outside into the morning sun. The air was still cold, she tucked her cowl further up her face as she orientated herself. Dragonsreach was left of her and in her memory Morthal was…  
A sigh and rustling nearby made her focus on Erador who had taken out his map. How convenient to not tell her he had had it all the time. Stepping close she looked over the markings trying to find Whiterun and Morthal. His marking for a city was a cross it seemed, it took her a few more moments to find Whiterun, after that it was fairly easy to find Morthal. The only thing they needed to watch out for was the mountain range, though she was pretty sure there was no dragon anymore on Shearpoint. She didn’t want to remember the times she and Lydia had walked out of a battle victorious and laughed in an inn over a tankard of mead.

  
It all didn’t matter anymore, one less dragon to worry about for Alduin to resurrect. Question was would the Stormcloaks have scouts already out looking for them? Ridiculous, the murder and theft happened just a few hours prior, they were probably still sifting through the city.

  
“So where are we…?”, he mumbled. She ignored it, he was talking to himself. Would it harm his pride if she pointed out the rough location they were at? The camp wasn’t on the map obviously, she had cleared it days after the dragon. Why did she hesitate? She had slapped Ulfric in the face not showing their location on a map for Auriel’s sake!

  
Putting the finger onto the rough spot where she thought they were did earn her an annoyed glance, but that morphed into a tight lipped smile, more tugging at the corner of the mouth, but he didn’t draw his sword on her.

  
“Before we go, I need to…”  
“We don’t have time!”  
“I need to dispose the bottle here.”  
“Why in Oblivion do you have an empty bottle?”  
“Stamina potion,” she could see he knew this was a lie, but he didn’t seem to make the connection that her hair was uniformly black again.  
“Can’t you just leave it here?”  
“So that every Stormcloak scout can see without a doubt that we had been here?!”

  
“Well think of something, but if you go up the steps I will knock you out and carry you”, how could she almost doubt he wasn’t a Thalmor for some moments? That was the same Erador she had met on that evening at the pit. He could be scary, but there was something holding her back right out killing him. He was just stressed… just stressed…. Drawing a deep breath she thought about it, going up to the forge would certainly consume more time, but dumping in the river and cover it up with the underwater mud would also take some time. Why did she feel like giving in for the sake of having no arguments? Grumbling and annoyed at her own weakness she stomped to the stream and plunged the bottle into the water, burying it deftly beneath layers of mud. May the next Stormcloak soldier step on it and be stabbed by the glass shards. Erador was already walking when she turned around again. That mer, she will kill him one day, by Sithis she swore while hurrying up and sprinted up to him.

  
“Done?”  
“Yes.”

  
“Good.” What a splendid start, a pissed off Thalmor agent. All because of this stupid crown? Petty just petty, just like Ulfric. Maybe she could piss him off by just comparing them two… would certainly rile him up more. She could just attack him right now and slit his throat. Be done with it and finally free of him.  
No, he had been kind to her in the dungeons and… what else? Help with the dragons? Well considering he down right threatened him to find the Dragonborn. He had dragged her out of a losing battle…. This was too confusing. Ayera soothed her bubbling anger that he was just as on edge as she was currently.  
They walked in silence, well not all out silence with the occasional pointing and consulting the map. The mountain range was close that was true, but there was no path visible where they could cross it as it was the quickest way of getting to Morthal in her experience than walking around. There must be a pass somewhere… the path would lead to the peak and then straight down into the marshes.

  
The sun was well past its midpoint already when he finally broke the silence.

  
“How long do you think we will have to walk until to Morthal?” he asked while stepping around a root of a tree nearby. So he had cooled down, coking her head to the side she observed him a moment before answering,  
“Depends, if we find a resting spot now, we can cross the mountain a two day march and reach the marshes in the evening.”  
“Would they come over here as well?”

  
“I don’t know, on the peak used to be a dragon lair,” there was an instant change in his demeanor, she couldn’t describe it really, it was more attentive.  
“Was the Dragonborn there?”  
“Yes, she had killed the dragon, but that hadn’t been really announced and the dragon had lived of the mammoths nearby and the occasional wild life. Any settlements are too far away.”  
“I see, how far is the next settlement?”  
“The next settlement is a near quarter of a day’s march from the base of the mountain away on the other side.”  
“So if we were to walk through to the settlement, we might have a roof over our head then.”

  
“Potentially, the folk around here isn’t exactly always welcoming strangers. Especially if they hear Whiterun has been taken.”

  
A nod was all she got. He crossed his arms and furrowed a brow while walking. Sometimes she wished she knew what he was thinking. Would definitely save her some energy trying not to piss him off too much. Maybe if she knew him better then… that was it! She didn’t know him and he didn’t really know her, if they could just have a normal conversation not involving any Dragonborn business, assassinations, her superficial curiosity or her inquiry about Sumerset Isles regarding the Dragonborn again.

  
Start with something light? Weather? Too superficial… the war? No, not a topic to get each other to know the other one better. She couldn’t just ask ‘I want to know you better, tell me about yourself.’  
“Where from the Sumerset Isles are you from?” After she blurted out the question she flinched. It was so… unsubtle.  
He turned his head to her with a raised eyebrow.

  
“Why do you want to know?”  
“I don’t know…”  
A small smile, then, “I guess you want us to be better acquainted.” She could only nod at this.

  
A sigh, then a chuckle.

  
“I guess you are right about that, what kind of travelling companions would we be if we didn’t know each other.”

  
Travelling companions until she knew whether she could trust him fully. Her stomach was forming knots already knowing full well she would have to lie by omission or blatantly lie to his face about her identity. Not really a good way to start any companionship when he found out and that moment came ticking closer. She still didn’t know how to break it to him that she had been leading him on a wild goose chase because she didn’t trust him even after a battle, the whole Whiterun incident with the crown, Ysolda and escaping and… she swallowed thickly that Nord who had touched her.

  
“I come from the South East of the Isles.” Ayera tried to remember the maps she had seen of Tamriel, the South East was close… to Valenwood?  
“Did you have lands close to the coast?”

  
He raised an eyebrow at the question, though still answered, “Yes, my family’s land is on the coast. Just last year we had established a trading route with a Bosmer merchant,” this was surprising, it was known the Bosmer held no love for the Thalmor.  
“Is everyone in your family a Thalmor?” He stopped at this question and turned around to her, with an expression she couldn’t quite place. Guarded with a hint of an internal conflict raging on judging how his lips thinned. Now she wished she could take the question back, her stomach churned.

  
“No, my family is quite happy with being nobles with good trading connections. Not every elf is a Thalmor.”  
“You are one.”  
“Yes I am, because I have a duty to my homeland and I plan to fulfill it.”

Sounded so much like Stormcloak soldiers. So painfully close especially with the bitter spite in his tone. Drawing her shoulders up she pondered on the next question. Asking where he was from was obviously the wrong kind of question. She was an idiot with these things.

“And you?”  
Surprised she snapped her head up,  
“What about me?”  
“Well where are you from?”  
“I do not know.”  
“You mean you cannot remember anything?”  
“I lost all my memories in an accident. If I had parents, they had not bothered finding me.”  
“You sure you cannot remember anything?”  
“I just told you…”

  
“Yes I know you cannot remember your parents and such, but I am wondering if you had any memories no matter how fuzzy they are.”  
She froze solid on the spot, her breath catching in her throat. Divulging her most treasured memory would be too much of an act of trust. Far too precious to tell a Thalmor and giving him potential blackmail leverage. He would do it.

  
“No”, she didn’t really intend to sound so clipped and inwardly cringed at it. Erador only frowned shortly before nodding,  
“I see that you don’t want to tell me otherwise”, he conceded. She only gave him an apologetic smile before crossing her arms. Her only response was a sigh

,  
“I was not quite truthful with you when we first met,” her back stiffened and she stopped walking. He lied to her? Where could she go now?! Her eyes flitted…  
“As in, I volunteered to reach out to you given my reputation it was granted,” he added hastily, stepping back towards her. In case she bolted? Who knew.  
“My sister died in that dragon attack. Burnt to a crisp, the only way we were able to identify her was by her jewelry which hadn’t molten down.”  
A sister? She remembered now. The dragonscale her had presented to her and the way he had tried to get her to comply. It all made sense now.  
“That is why you…”

  
“Yes.”  
He had her cornered conscious wise, next time the opportunity arose she would wring his neck for all the times he had backed her into such a corner. What could she tell him and still be sure that it was something trivial and not something that could be used against her.  
“I only have one…” she started slowly, drawing for a breath

  
“Go on.”  
“All I remember that it was warm, bright and I remember hearing the sea.”  
“The sea?”  
“I think that what it sounds like”, she back paddled.  
“No no, I am not doubting it, but….” He left it unsaid, and further prying yielded only in him only shaking his head saying “A lot of Tamriel is coast line.”  
He was right, Tamriel had many coastal regions. For all she knew she could have been born in the Empire, High Rock or even Valenwood. She let it drop for now.

  
“Erador, will you and the Dragonborn go to Sumerset Isle?”  
“Yes, we will.”  
Ayera bit her lip trying to formulate the question right,  
“What will she face? Like what kind of studies?”  
He stared at her blankly for a while, thinking,  
“I think what will happen is that she will be assessed in her current skills as a warrior and mage. Then they will decide whether there is room for improvement and such.”

  
Sounded like something no one really did with her, unless she asked and could pay for it. It was always assumed she could just … fight. Lydia had been astonished when she had asked her for some training with a sword and how to handle a dagger properly. Magic had saver her arse many times and her sheer inability to hold a sword too long and dagger throwing sometimes had been enough. As a thief and assassin she had only ever used a bow, magic or a dagger.

  
“I see.”  
“Do you think we will meet her in Morthal?” He had nearly taken her aback too obviously.  
“Eh, I do hope so. She usually avoids Stormcloak held regions but does want to help where she can.”  
“Why is she not helping the Imperials if she doesn’t want to associate with the Stormcloaks?”

  
Good question, why didn’t she? Nearly getting her head chopped off by them hadn’t earned them a lot of sympathy from her part and the way Ulfric had treated her with such contempt that she had sworn not to ever help him. Might have helped that Whiterun had remained neutral, not anymore….  
“She never told me her reasons why, just that she would rather remain neutral.”

  
“Not sure how long she can remain neutral, war tends to make even the faction less chose.”  
“Believe me when she doesn’t want to she won’t.”  
“Her hand might be forced.”  
“Who would dare and force her hand?”  
“Many, even me”, he flashed her a confident smirk. She knew he was joking, but it was so close to the truth how he had treated her in the beginning. How ironic.

  
“You will be in for a surprise then, she hates it when someone does that”, if she was only that confident like she just portrayed herself.  
“That is why I have you, threatening a potential ally is just idiotic”, then why was he threatening her?  
“Why did you threaten me when you met me?”

  
He was clearly taken aback and took with his answer,  
“You were the unknown factor, the Dominion knew you were most likely associated with the Dark Brotherhood, but our sources were too hazy at best. Sometimes the sources were not even sure you even existed. In the end I deemed that going on the offensive negotiation tactic would be best.”

  
An unknown factor, so her strategy of separating herself had worked a tad too well. In the end, it had only served her to be caught by him and been told to lead him to ‘herself’ with a dagger at her throat situation. Right now it only served to lose them time in enemy territory until they reach Morthal and she did not know how Ulfric would proceed. Falkreath or Morthal next? A few days of recuperation in Whiterun some recruitment efforts and then they would be on the move again. Ulfric might stay behind with more security with Ysolda now dead he would be surrounded by an armada of guards, she still wondered why Ysolda, if Farengar was right Ulfric’s wife, hadn’t had sufficient protection. Maybe the two guards who had been called away from the door and had trusted too much on the locks. Or had there been more guards and they had been incredibly lucky not to have encountered more on their way?

  
“Unknown factor and here we are.”  
“Yes here we are.”  
“Still going to kill me after finding me?” she joked with tensed shoulders. She needed to know, what he would do. This time he stopped and whirled around to her, making her stop.

  
“No”, he flinched then he returned to his guarded expression returned. “I mean killing you wouldn’t give me any advantage or the Dominion for that matter.”  
She didn’t know how to react to that, for this was unexplored territory for her now. What was their relationship now? There had been a change in that farm with the murdered family and then Whiterun itself had just been far too many touches and far too many happenings for them to remain captor and captive. Just what were they now? Good friends was too far-fetched…yet.

  
“Oh”, was all she could muster in the end. Confusing wasn’t even describing their situation. He regarded her for a moment, then his face softened a bit,  
“Tell me about Whiterun before you know…” he didn’t need to finish the sentence for she knew what he meant, before Ulfric had come. Glad he had changed the subject, she started talking about the Companions, Skyforge and the Gildergleam. That is how they passed the time, talking about their homes, the sensations, friends, she didn’t say anything about Lydia yet, but Saadia, how she had killed the Alikir for her. In turn he spoke of his extended family, growing up on the Sumerset Isle, his life with the Thalmor, where she suspected he only was glorifying it to a certain degree, but she didn’t press. Anything not to have awkward silence afterwards, as before. The sun had started lowering already when they began looking for a suitable place to sleep.

 

“I swear to you, I saw some smoke clouds on the sky”, he had started saying this for an hour now and had steered them where he thought they were coming from.

  
Ayera only huffed while climbing onto the boulder where he stood, she couldn’t see it no matter how hard she squinted her eyes. Sometimes she wished she could see as far as he could. Could it be that he was going to betray her? No, he still needed her for all she knew. So did Astrid with the Emperor but she still did…. Her breath caught in her throat, oh no, please no panick attack coming. She tried to gasp for air but her chest didn’t expand to let the precious air in. Oh no. Too late to call out for Erador to slow down and wait for her to… her vision grew cloudy, while a high pitched noise grew more painful in her ears. Why is this happening now? She had thought she had been past all this, it had happened almost a year ago, for Auriel’s sake. Grinding her teeth she pushed her thoughts to usual gentle water splashing in Whiterun, it was how she kept those episodes at bay.

  
Sure enough the noise retreated and her lungs filled again with much needed air. He won’t betray her, she was sure of it… almost.

  
“Do you see it now?” he was pointing past some boulders’s gap. Squinting her eyes she focused her gaze on any air discoloration or movement. There was nothing she could see, except… it almost slipped her perception that tiny movement of air and with some imagination she could see it being gray.  
“Maybe…” she still remained skeptical. A sigh and she was tugged forward to the edge of the gap. Behind the two boulders the path sloped down gently, a relief for her legs for sure, and in that small delve was a small cottage with chickens, a small garden attached as well. Sure enough there came smoke from the chimney, light gray one, so only dry wood was currently burning or a low fire. She grinned, they had found a nice place to stay for the night that was for sure. If the owner was friendly enough.

  
Shouldering her pouch again she walked down behind Erador who seemed more focused on getting to the house than anything. That was why he probably didn’t see the subtle blood stains on the ground which she did, making her falter slightly. Her alarm bells were starting to ring, but it was too late, he had already knocked.

  
Who would live in seclusion with a well-built cottage and not an improvised hut? Her gut was twisting at the possibilities. The last time she had encountered a lone settler in the wild it had been a witch trying to get more to join her fledgling covenant. Although there had been several hunters lodges or Angi. Just they all had a hut and not a well-constructed cottage. This was far too… idyllic to be true if she thought about it.  
It took a while until someone answered, but the door was opened only a little bit so she couldn’t see the face. Judging from the voice it was a male.  
“What do two travelers do in these parts of the mountains?” It was a pleasant voice, smooth and soothing. She didn’t like her gut feeling about this, but she could be wrong for once, just for once.

 

“We got lost on our way to Morthal and night is upon us soon.”

  
“These are unfortunate parts to get lost in, my friend. Do come in through, I have some spare bedrolls for you and your companion.”  
That was either someone talking from experience of hosting travelers, but how often do people come here across the mountain when there is a good road just around the mountain? Not everyone was in need of a fast escape over the mountains as they were.

  
She followed the man and Erador into the cottage and was greeted by a tidy room with a cooking space and a table in the middle with a door leading to further rooms in the back she supposed. Frost Miriam and Garlic was hung on the ceiling giving off the typical fresh scent she had grown accustomed to in Breezehome. Furthermore, Frost Miriam usually helped in the long cold winter days if brewed into a tea. The man turned around and she finally recognized his race, Altmer. Not the most handsome one of the lot that was for sure.

  
“Do sit down, I was just making some stew”, he gestured to the bank in front of the table. Reluctantly she followed his invitation still not rid completely of her gut telling her to run. Her gut had been wrong several times, it was certainly wrong now. Their friendly host made his way to the cooking pit and stirred in the kettle. Her stomach growled at the delicious smell of vegetable soup and baked bread. Smelled just like the evenings in the Bannered Mare. No, don’t even start thinking about it….

  
Erador plopped down next to her, stretching his legs out underneath the table and eyed her with a light hearted smile. Did he not have a bad feeling about this? Maybe she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help it.

  
“We have not learned your name yet”, Erador commented when the elf returned with two steaming bowls of soup in his hands.  
“Oh, I am called Tristwyr”, he smiled at them while placing the bowls with spoons in them in front of them.

  
“We thank you for your hospitality” Erador said before diving into his portion and eating it quickly. That mer had a hunger rivalling any Nord she had met. She picked up her spoon and stirred in it first, trying to figure out what was in it. Leek, cabbage, potato, the usual things then. From the corner of her eyes she saw Tristwyr fill himself a bowl and walked over to them sitting down.

She lifted up the spoon and took her first spoonful of her dinner. It tasted like vegetable soup no doubt… just there was this aftertaste which made her stop in her tracks for the next spoonful. That had never been there when Hulda did it. This after taste was too sour. Far too sour to be from a cabbage not properly boiled that was. Should she take another spoon? Glancing quickly to Erador he seemed still pretty happy with wolfing down his portion, showing no sign that he had noticed anything. She waited a little bit. Her limbs and head didn’t grow heavy or any pain turned up anywhere either. Not poisoned, she had let her paranoia get the best of her again.

  
She took another spoon and ignored the after taste to fully eat the soup with their host doing idle small talk with them.  
Just she couldn’t detect any signs of any poison except the sour taste and Babette said that most poisons were awfully bitter.  
“You must have been hungry all day to eat like that”, the mirth was evident, just maybe a little bit too much, while he himself started eating. Surely if he ate something of the same pot then it was not poisoned.

  
“We only had a meager breakfast as we were already camping in the wilds” Ayera offered the truthful explanation.  
“Where were you coming from, a Breton and another Altmer is a rare combination”, he was somewhat right, she needed to think fast.  
“We… fled from Windhelm, met at the gate as a chance encounter and then have been travelling ever since”, she lied easily and took another spoon.  
“I have heard the Nords there were pretty cruel towards elven kind. But to a Breton?”  
If he lived in seclusion then he would hear of it either from travelers or he sometimes made his way down to Whiterun or Morthal, but then why would anyone there specifically mention Windhelm?

  
“Our race was after all a genetic experimentation of your race, so we were the elven fuckers.”  
“I see,” he looked at their bowls, “has it not tasted well, Breton?” Her stomach growled and she took another spoon hastily,  
“No, no it is just I am not fast eater like he is”, nudged Erador in the side to emphasize her point.  
Suddenly she started feeling drowsy, why was she drowsy? The trek hadn’t been too exhausting and they had reached the cottage before nightfall. Blinking heavily she focused on Erador, who seemed fine, except for the drooping eyelids. He had eaten more and too fast, they had been poisoned.  
By Auriel, just her luck to ignore her gut feeling the one time it was right….

  
Fighting against the tiredness she looked to Tristwyr who was still smiling, but now she saw just how sinister it was. He had lured the trap and she, the one who works with deception, had fallen for the bait. Sometimes she thought she didn’t deserve the mantle of the leader of the dark brotherhood. It was nearly impossible to lift herself of the bank and not fall forward on the table, her vision was spinning and her mind got so hazy.

  
“Wha…”, even her voice was garbled. A thump resounded next to her. Erador had fallen asleep or dead, she didn’t know.  
“You are tired travelers, rest for now”, the voice had become sickly sweet. Her knees became weak, she couldn’t hold on to the table longer trying to make a grab for the man.

  
Then a dark ring wrapped itself around her eyes, she was losing consciousness. Sithis, give her a moment more to kill him. All in vain, she slumped onto Erador on the bank with their host regarding them with a smile. So ended her tale as the Dragonborn was her last conscious thought.  
Her head hurt. Squeezing her eyes further, her senses told her still foggy mind that she was lying on a cool surface. She was cold, skin touching the ground. Was she naked? Panic overtook her weariness and her eyes snapped open. A wooden ceiling came into focus after blinking several times into the blinding light. Soft intake of breath made her turn her head to the side. Erador was still there, still unconscious, as naked as she was with a loincloth though. Thank Sithis for that.

  
Someone had undressed her while she had been out, her stomach tightened in disgust, when she saw that mer again, he would be dead. But gods, she was cold. Her limbs were too heavy to lift, even moving her little finger brought sweat to her forehead. All the while goosebumps had risen on her skin and she was shivering, while turning on her side facing Erador. There on her side she was panting from the effort to turn on her side. He still was out of it, but at least he had a steady breathing pattern. The poison, she remembered vaguely, had not been something to kill them, but rather something to make them sleep. What was the purpose? Making them sleep and just undress them? That was something only a pervert would do, but she couldn’t feel any pain in the lower regions, she probably hadn’t been raped…yet.

Maybe a little healing spell might help, she hoped. Calling her magicka forth was even more taxing and halfway through the initiation she had to stop. Frowning, she tried again, this time spots were dancing across her vision when she exhausted herself again with one simple spell initiation. Why was her magicka so low right now? Drawing a deep breath she tried to calm down the bubbling panic rising within her. Naked, without her magic and… she swallowed, too damn defenseless. She might just as well be a bunny being chased by a wolf.

  
Right now the only thing she could do was wait and shiver in the cold and watch Erador across her still oblivious to their precarious situation. When would he finally wake up? Well, when he would he would have a good view of her chest, which was thank Auriel covered with her small clothes.  
A door screeched open and Ayera would have lifted her head to see who it was if her energy was still too low to do it. Damn whatever poison that had been.  
“Awake now are we?” the voice, the mer’s, said from a point she couldn’t see. Her skin crawled where his gaze rested on her even and she felt humiliated to the very core. Curl up and hope he goes away. What does he even want with them?

  
“Hm, your companion is still out, not for long. With you I have some plans, just lie back and don’t resist”, he didn’t surely expect her to just follow that command?  
A shock spell hit her in the back causing her to cry out in shock.

  
“Do I have your attention now, little Breton?”  
Her throat was scratchy from the cry, she rasped, “Yes.”

  
“Good” footsteps were heard coming closer. All the while Ayera’s body tightened every muscle in anticipation of an assault and was prepared to defend with what little strength she possessed. A hand came down on her stomach, she sucked it in as far as possible, and then was turned around to face him. It was the same mer, just he now was clad in black robes. Oh Sithis, he was a rogue mage. That usually means Necromancy or someone who dealt with only black soul gems, but she couldn’t be sure. There were many parts in magic which are frowned upon on with the mages.

  
“Hm, you will make just a fine specimen, just sit still, will you?” No! She won’t.

  
Wiggling she tried twisting her body away from him and hopefully in a sitting position, if her strength would allow it yet. It must have posed a pathetic picture of her just twisting and not getting anywhere before her strength was too sapped. The mer just laughed at her attempts before bringing a boot up to her soft and vulnerable stomach.

  
“Stop”, a green glow came from his left hand, her eyes widened in recognition. A paralysis spell, before she could react, it had hit her square in the chest.  
Her muscles relaxed, head lolled to the side, her arms slid down to her sides and even her jaw went slack. She should learn that one if they made it out of here alive.

  
“A handy spell isn’t it, too bad that your species isn’t blessed with much talent for the arcane arts as we are.”

  
He grabbed her by a leg and started dragging her limp form across the wood boards. Where was he going? She tried to grab something to prevent her from sliding where ever he was going to drag her, but her nails only scratched wood finding no hold on anything. Her body collided with something causing her to hiss in pain. Another tug and she saw herself being dragged out of the door into a corridor. There were no windows; she couldn’t say what time it was. How long have they been out? Any longer and maybe Ulfric’s troops might come knocking and if they discovered her in that defenseless position, she was screwed.

But first she needed to know why the mer had drugged and stripped them. Well, being a rogue mage meant experiments. Her heart sank remembering stories and actually meeting some of them that they were always lethal to the specimen. How many had he already taken that way? People had warned her going through this mountain range but the one time she and Lydia had done it for the dragon they hadn’t seen the hut. One advantage was there though, the Stormcloak scouts might just miss it as well. At least one less concern to think about. If they miss it or was he even with them?  
Something awful hit her nose. Decay, this was how the Nightmother smelled like. Suppressing her gag reflexes she tried to twist her head to see what was dead in the room, no avail, she couldn’t.

  
A final tug and she landed unceremoniously on something which felt like stone. What was going on? Tristwyr smiled at her and walked out of her line of sight. A door was shut judging by the noise and she was all alone on whatever stone ground she was on. Groaning she turned her head and twisted herself on her side. A deep breath she pushed her arm underneath her and pushed herself up on her elbow. Damn, this was taxing. She was panting by the time her head was inches off the ground.

  
There were containers at the ends. How many were they? Four? A black gem suddenly twinkled in the light and her blood ran cold. Black soul gems. Necromancy… he was looking to take her soul. Sithis, she needed to get out of here. Collapsing on her side again she looked down to see where the door was where she had been dragged through. Her feet were already too cold to flex. Twisting again she slowly repositioned herself to face the door.  
Was that a pile next to the door? Was the stench coming from there? It was, oh no… they were not the only victims. This time she didn’t hold back her vomit. Heaving and gagging she emptied her stomach of any contents. Her nose hurt from all the content going through it.

  
Drawing a deep breath, she looked again. The door wasn’t too far away, well considering she still hadn’t gotten most of her strength back this would be a colossal feat to reach. If she could even do it without him returning. At least try it, Erador would wake at one point again, maybe a faint hopeful thought crossed her mind, he wouldn’t be as weak as she was. No, he would be even weaker, he had more of the soup, at best he would be only to move a finger without passing out. She couldn’t rely on him to come to her rescue this time, it was all on her. Not that she had done it before, just sometimes it was easier to get used to someone else fighting alongside with her. A fleeting smile was all she could do right now, get to the door, find the weapons, kill him and then bust them out.

  
One little flaw though, she couldn’t even sit up.

  
One set back, all she needed to do was prevent him getting far in whatever he was going to do with her. Her brain was working on any excuse to stop him.  
The door was slammed open again. Too late…. May the gods have mercy on her. Tristwyr was carrying a bowl, she was not sure what exactly was in there, but she really didn’t want to know. All she wanted was him dead and far away from Skyrim if she could help it. Her captor started chuckling,  
“Ah, don’t even try to escape, the poison you see was designed to sap your strength,” a sinister smile accompanied that statement. Not good, Babette had assured her that no poison was ever permanent, so there was some hope that her strength would return with her magicka. But no use in hoping. What did she have except her head right now? Just babbling surely would do.

  
“Don’t!” oh great excuse, but it did stop him for a second, with a shocked expression. It didn’t last long though when he broke out laughing.  
“You misunderstand your position, Breton, you are my prisoner. I will do whatever I want with you.”  
“And what do you want?” Yes stall him, hopefully he is tempted to go into a monologue what he is planning.

  
“Not worth the effort telling you. My brilliance would just dazzle you” oh Sithis, a self-absorbent one. Might actually work to her advantage.  
“Oh you sure are brilliant for brewing such a potion”, it took some effort leaving her panting to sound awestruck. Any other time she would have cringed at it. Now she was just glad she could delay the inevitable.

  
“You haven’t witnessed my true powers”, oh no, not going there. Tell her about the potion! He set down the bowl and she saw its contents. A dagger.  
“No, the potion was clearly brilliant.” Please jump on that.

  
“No, no, I am not going to be deterred by you trying to delay me” Sithis, he caught on it. She was done for. Though, lying back and accepting her fate was not in her. Surviving Helgen, various dragon attacks and kriffing Dragon priests, she will not be killed by a necromancer because he wanted a specimen! A dagger would definitely be the perfect weapon even if it was an iron one. Just getting to it… something green hit her and her muscles loosened. What… damn that mer, using paralysis spell she was done for. No more savior of the world. How ironic. The destined Dragonborn would be killed by a mere necromancer. Almost laughable.

  
He was now looming over her with the dagger in hand. Unable to move she could only watch with horror when he took her arm and moved the bowl under it. Please don’t hack of her arm….

  
“Don’t worry, we don’t want to lose your pretty arm” he stroked the skin tenderly causing goosebumps. Disgusting, she wanted to retch.  
“What do you want with me?”

  
He gave her a small smile again, she really wanted to wipe it off his smug face.

  
“You haven’t noticed the soul gems already? Your soul is something precious to me. Immortalized in a gem and through me.” Through him? How does that work? He placed the dagger with the blade flat against her skin and drew it down. A small crimson line formed along the cut and grew steadily larger. He was bleeding her out. Twisting her arm down, the blood started dripping into the bowl. What was he planning with her blood?

  
“Blood is a link to the soul, it is easier to steal someone’s soul while using their blood” he muttered to himself or her? She couldn’t tell, all she could see was blood leaving her. It would weaken her, not good premises if she wanted to escape once the spell lifted. If it would lift and she hadn’t bled out.

  
It took a while and dark spots were swimming in front of her eyes when he decided it was enough and cast a healing spell. The metallic smell was almost gone from her senses when he loomed over her again. She couldn’t do anything even if the spell had already lifted. Sleep was calling to her.

  
Suddenly something heavy dropped on her stomach and through the dots clouding her vision she saw him sitting on her stomach with the bowl in his hands. She couldn’t breathe, gasping she tried to get some precious air into her lungs, only succeeding a few times. He was too heavy.

  
“Don’t worry it will be all over soon”, it was soothing now and it lulled her in, nearly making her fall asleep. No don’t, she needed to get him off. Run! She couldn’t move, the spell and the weight pinned her down.

  
He lifted his hands in the bowl with her blood and smeared his hands with it. If she could have moved she would have pressed herself into the stone ground to escape his hands which pressed on her chest now close to her heart. No one should touch this without her permission even if he didn’t do with the usual sexual intention behind it. His hands were moving in a pattern she couldn’t discern. The ritual was being prepared and she was the lamb to the wolf. How pathetic for someone who was kin to the dov. Well proved more she wasn’t, the Greybeards were wrong.

  
His disgusting hands then moved to her forehead repeating the pattern with his thumbs it seems. Muscles twitched, even if they were the eyelids, at least she didn’t have to face him anymore by closing her eyes. She had failed Auriel and being his chosen amongst mortals. How pathetic.

  
Stabbing pain removed every thought from her mind. It felt like her brain was trying to push through her skull. This time she screamed, at first it was just a pathetic mewling then it grew louder as the pain grew. Her blood surged and boiled trying to act against this force. Why couldn’t she just die?  
Then it stopped. So that was how it was to die. Just nothing anymore, just silence. Blissful silence. So there was no Sovngarde? Why was she not there? Then why was she still breathing?

  
“Why is this not working, it had worked every time?” the realization was like a bucket of cold water poured over her. She wasn’t dead yet, his ritual had failed to extract her soul. Not that she could answer why. Was her soul unattainable by some divine twist? Not that she should complain.  
Hands gripped her temples and she cried out at the painful pressure.

  
“What have you done?” it was accusing, but what could she say? She didn’t know either.  
“I don’t know.”

  
“Hmpf, I thought so. Amateurs always botching up my delicate rituals.” She could move again, albeit just her finger. With him distracted she wiggled her stiff little finger getting some feeling back into it. He moved slightly, dunking his hands into the bowl again and inspected the signs on her again.

  
“Flawless, maybe the spell initiation had gone wrong” no, not again. This time there was no warning leaving her unable to scream in the first moments, but it was gone as sudden as it had started. Leaving her gasping for air the mage above her punched the ground underneath her.

  
“Why is your soul not for me to take, Breton!” he grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her head off near his face. Spit flew and rage filled golden eyes stared into her frightened blue ones.

 

“Tell me how you lowly creature has a defense against my master spell?” he was hysterical at that point.

  
A strange calmness overcame her, something made her upper lips curl in a snarl, he couldn’t harm her not like that. Her soul was unattainable for it was a dragon one, only another dragon could absorb it and he was not one. He needed to die for his insolence of daring to trap her very being in a gem. Fury swept through her, blood began rushing in her ears. Strength came soaring back into her arms. It was a near sadistic satisfaction when she saw his face contort in terror when she opened her mouth. Words appeared in front of her eyes, she heard the shout vibrating in her bones waiting to be released, to kill this pathetic worm. One of the shouts she had ever mastered with all three words, heralding doom and death, fitting for an assassin.

  
“Krii Lun Aus.” Her voice was inhuman and full of malice, she nearly didn’t recognize it herself. A blue front appeared in front of her and hit the mer in front of her square in the chest. That was when strength abandoned her again and she slumped down as his hands released her to grip his chest.

  
“What have you done?” he was only whispering and she could hear his obvious struggle to cling onto life. Life would be seeping out of him now, there were only moments for him left on this world.

  
She sat up with gritted teeth and observed the desperate man clutching his chest in front of her. Then his stare snapped to her again. Eyes blazing with uncontained anger made her realise, he won’t die without a fight. Get out of his reach!

  
She rolled to the side just in time to avoid the dagger being rammed into the ground just next to her shoulder. Without armor the only options she had was either shout again even if it was coupled with immense pain after using one before so shortly after or running. Running was the far more preferable one. Crawling to the bowl with her blood in it she tipped it, emptying it behind her. May he slip on it. Then threw it in direction of his head. A thump and a yelp indicated it had hit him. Looking back she saw it had only gotten him in the shoulder and only infuriated him more. Oh Sithis, leaning against the door she fell backwards only to shakily get up and make wobbly steps out into the corridor. Where were her weapons? Where was Erador? How was he even?  
He was behind her and made another stab which she evaded by falling against the wall on the side. This was slow, her still recovering from his ritual and his strength being sapped by her voice only. She tripped over her own feet landing on her fours again. No matter, crawl!

  
Another swipe with the dagger, this time it caught her in the arm, leaving a large gash dripping blood on the floor. Damnit, he was going to take her with him if he could.

  
Kicking out with her leg she caught him in his shins, making him double over into a kneeling position. She hoped instantly he had no more strength left to get up again. Further down she a door to her left, was this where Erador was? Just right now she was no use to him like this, she needed her weapons and magicka if she wanted to protect him. Looking again she saw the corridor making a bent. That is maybe a way to her things. Once she did then may Sithis have mercy on his wretched soul.

  
Crawling was a slower process than she thought, it was also more taxing than she had thought with many close calls of the mer wheezing behind her trying to grab her foot. At the bent he got her and yanked her back. She fell on her stomach. Turn around, fight! Twisting around, she kicked out with the other leg he hadn’t been holding. It landed on his chest, making him fall backwards releasing her foot. Scuttling backwards on her elbows, she hoped he was finally done for, the shout should take his life away any moment.

  
A hard glare. Not now it seems, damnit. This time when she pushed herself up she could hold herself better. With her balance restored she walked briskly as not to risk feeling dizzy after losing a significant amount of blood she reached another door. She turned around. Tristwyr was nowhere in sight. Creasing an eyebrow in confusion what he was up to. Surely his magicka would be too low to cast an invisibility spell. A door snapped shut and her body froze. Erador!  
As fast as she could she rounded the corner again and flew to the door. It didn’t budge, locked.

No, not him. Tears began running down her face, she was such a failure protecting her companions. Throwing her body against it didn’t yield any results. No, no… please be still alive.

  
Her lungs were still exhausted from the last shout, but she didn’t care. This time the familiar rush of blood in her veins in preparation for a shout was giving her stabbing pains in the lungs. Gritting her teeth she drew in a deep breath concentrating on the words.

  
“Fus Ro Dah!” The door slammed open in its hinges, hitting the mage in the back brutally knocking forward. She couldn’t see the rest as her lungs burned and were stabbed by invisible daggers as she slid down the wall. So much for using shouts in short time to each other.  
A gasp for breath and then silence. Was he finally dead? Opening her eyes she saw the mer lying motionless over another figure, the door in splinters to his side. A sigh of relief escaped her, he was finally dead. No more rituals to steal someone’s soul, no more danger. Letting her head loll to the side she looked at the scene in front of her. It was surreal now, they were alone now with a dead mer.

  
Why was Erador not moving? Please no. Don’t let her have been too late…. Stumbling over to the bodies she pushed the dead mer out of the way, its body landing in a heap next to them, dead eyes staring at the ceiling. His eyes were half way open and breathing heavily. Oh Auriel, he was alive. More tears came and she buried her face in his forearm to let it all out. She had been so scared, her hands gripped his arm muscles tightly which earned her a whimper in protest.

  
“Ayera?” it was a weak question but it contained all question ranging from what happened? Why are you crying? Right now she only shook her head and looked at him. He was a little bit pale around the nose, it would get better soon, the poison will leave their systems soon.

  
“Don’t speak, save your strength.”  
“No”, he tried again but it was slurred as if he was drunk.  
On her own accord she shifted a hand and reached out to smooth his hair out of his face which had fallen in during his time unconscious.  
“Can you lift me up, please?”

  
Should he? Maybe sitting up would return his strength and she could cast a healing spell on him while keeping a better eye on him. Winding her arms around his torso she lifted it up and propped him against a wall far away from the corpse. Legs straight and arms hanging to his side he provided a pathetic image of pure weakness. His head lolled to the side immediately. She reached out with her hands keeping his face straight up holding him on the back of his head.  
A healing spell would potentially speed up his recovery, if her magicka would allow it. The gentle warm feeling was there when she called onto it, just more taxing due to her not being fully recovered from the poison. The golden glow passed over him returning colour to his face she noted with a slight smile. She couldn’t hold the spell for long, leaving them like that in the now colder feeling room.

  
“Ayera, what happened?” She withdrew her hand first biting her lip avoiding the question. At least his voice wasn’t garbled anymore. Her hands fell to her side while she worked on her explanation. Hands came up from behind and grasped her shoulders, giving her a comforting squeeze.

  
“Tristwyr, he had poisoned our soup”, she began.  
“I had deduced as much by waking up naked and you gone. Screaming woke me up, was that you?”  
“Yes, that was me.”

  
A murderous look came fleetingly on his face before becoming concerned.

  
“What did he do to you?”  
“He wanted to steal my soul.” There was nothing else to say. His grip on her tightened.  
“That bastard wanted to do what?!”  
“He…”  
“No I heard right, but how did you escape that?”

  
“I regained some of my mobility in the crucial moment”, no need to tell him yet. No need to disrupt the moment with her lies. His face softened.  
“I am glad”, somehow that made her feel warm inside.

Then she was pushed forward slowly. She knew he was going to hug her like he always knew when she needed it. This time however, she flung herself into his embrace, not caring about his surprised yelp as she squeezed him tightly. Not caring they were practically naked and on the run. Right now all what mattered was in this room with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So project is finally done *phew*  
> I kinda got inspired to write this when I was playing Skyrim for the first time. "Oh nice cottage, no need to lockpick it to get in." *enters and dies immediately to a frost spell* "What?"  
> Sometimes I curse myself for writing these long chapters... breaking the paragraphs up after copying is such a hassle.  
> Bonus points for anyone who can point out how they were poisoned! I hope you guys like it, as always please comment. 
> 
> GirAwesome43: I went back and revised the last chapter and I hope the paragraphs are more readable now :)


	12. Chapter 12

It had taken a while until Erador had enough strength to tighten his hold on her, it didn’t really matter to her. They had remained that way just being glad to be alive.

Ayera sniffed, another barge of tears announcing with the increasing pressure behind her eyes. She shouldn’t still be this upset. Fear had ingrained itself in her the moment that scum had gone for Erador and she had only been able to _shout_ him dead. Her chest still hurt, at least she wasn’t coughing blood up yet.

“How did you manage to blast the door in his face?” Oh, had he heard her shout? Not good if he had.

“I discharged a lightning spell at it”, she muttered with her face in his chest suppressing the guilt gnawing at her stomach for lying at him again, even if for a moment, then her blood went cold again. _Who was the Dragonborn? Not her_. Looking up shortly he had a thoughtful look on his face.

“I thought I heard you say something, but…” he started rubbing circles on her bare back.

“I haven’t said anything”, she reassured squeezing him shortly.

“I was pretty sure…” she needed to distract him of this, make him forget.

 “You were still groggy, I didn’t say anything… just discharged a spell.” If she said it enough times she would eventually believe it most fervently herself. In the end it was the truth, she wasn’t the Dragonborn. That part of her died in her home in Whiterun, and now trying to resurrect something dead was just madness, but nothing was impossible. What if he found? No, she willed the thought down, how could he discover it if she wasn’t able to absorb a soul anymore? But would he…? No, why should she care what he thought? He was a Thalmor, ruthless and cruel. He didn’t deserve such thoughts. _Auriel, help her soul…_.

He opened his mouth again, but closed it again when she buried her head in his chest again. Out of all things, her shout to save his life was not something she wanted to discuss except say it was a lightning charge to blow the door open. Her magicka had returned and movements weren’t taxing anymore, thank the divines. The poison had finally worn off. Erador still had some trouble with moving his legs, but she was positive he would be up in a few minutes. This was far too peaceful to disrupt. Like their own little plane in Oblivion. No dragons to defeat, no vengeful Ulfric Stormcloak chasing after them.

Suddenly he stiffened,

“We should get dressed” they had been fine, but why… oh. Not that he was attracted of course, but crossing that line after just having finally talked to get to know each other better was a bit too soon.

Just how much was too soon and when was it too late? Scrunching up her nose she squeezed her eyes shut. She didn’t want to think about this future just yet.

His hands shifted and pushed her gently away.

“We really should get moving again, who knows how far Ulfric has gotten on the hunt for us.”

He was right, chewing on her lower lip she began to think, how long had they been out? A day, two? Even if, they did need to get moving, maybe they could slip into Morthal before any scouts reached the borders. Or has Ulfric already moved on to his next military conquest? What would be more strategically placed hold for him? Her head started to hurt….

Where were their clothes anyways?

“Do you know where he put our things?” Rolling her eyes she stood up and stretched her limbs. Where could they start looking? After all, this house might have some secret rooms and they would lose a lot of time just looking for that. A necessary evil considering they couldn’t just walk out naked.

“No I do not, so I suggest we get to the searching.”

It was awkward knowing fully that they were running around partially nude looking for their armor and then not looking at the other. She had sat on his lap for Auriel’s sake, why did she feel the need to look away now? Stupid and not at all pragmatic.

The sacrificial chamber was empty except for the few soul gems and a pile of bones in the one corner. Ayera did her best not to look at it now, even if she caught her head moving on its own sometimes. Their armor wasn’t here, which was expected, but Erador had insisted on it as she had been half conscious when the mer had performed the ritual on her. She still flinched involuntarily at the feeling of her brain seemingly trying to escape her skull.

The door around the bent was thankfully open and not locked, she really didn’t want to touch Tristwyr, even if to just look for a key. An alchemy table occupied the far corner of the small room with candles giving some sparse light. Summoning her magicka had gotten easier thank the divines, a mage light popped into existence and hovered up into the ceiling. Just then they noticed the ladder leading up to a trap door.

“Hm, I wonder how he got us down. Didn’t look so strong”, Erador commented as he stepped into the room next to her.

“Dropped us maybe?”

“Doubtful, we would have bruises by then.”

“Healing spell can do wonders on bruises.”

“Waste your energy on bruises seems a little bit foolish.”

“He healed the cut he made to drain my blood.”

He stiffened “Well, then I suppose he would waste the effort then.” Looking around she could only see some shelves at another wall stuffed with bits of parchments and some bottles. That was where he stored the recipes. Would it be worth to take and sell them for good coin?

“I see no chest here” neither did she, so they could only climb up and look there.

“Don’t look solely for chests, maybe a wardrobe?” He only shrugged as response.

“Either way, there is only an alchemy set and a shelf with only bits of paper. No way had he put our armor there.”

“I know, but I am simply pointing out it is not solely a chest.”

A huff was her only response to it. This mer’s antics were infuriating to say the least. Clenching her right fist she approached the shelf. Curious what kind of potions he had been brewing, might come in handy at one point.

“If you are thinking of sacking some of them, forget it”, he had already climbed up halfway and gave her a warning stare.

“Why not? Might yield some nice coin.”

“He was a lunatic, not sure his potions actually work.”

“Worked wonders on us.”

“That is beside the point, he only used one on us.”

“And? Sell them to an alchemist? I don’t have a lot of money anymore.”

“And you think selling such recipes will get us some?”

“Yes.”

“And the alchemist we will sell it to won’t get suspicious?”

“Not if you know they won’t ask questions.” Babette certainly wouldn’t. Just would she ever get back to the little sanctuary? By Sithis, they were all waiting for her and disappearing won’t be good…. Most likely they will search and kill everything in their path. Would certainly cause some havoc and distraction…. If she could contact them somehow. Their contracts came through the nightmother and then her.

“If they didn’t, they would most likely remember us then if the Stormcloaks come knocking and their door.”

“So you are concerned that an alchemist who gets sold various recipes every day would keep us in his memory?”

“We are still in enemy territory and we have no guarantee how big Ulfric’s influence is already.”

“Morthal is most likely swamped with refugees…”

“Yeah and those are probably looking for any way to get on the good side once Ulfric conquers it too.”

“You think Morthal will fall?”

“Yes, Whiterun had been the one hold which made the war not advance and now Ulfric has it. The war is pretty much lost on the Empire’s side.”

“Are you not concerned?”

“The war is not my mission, my mission is to find the Dragonborn and give her the Dominion’s message.”

“Some day it will be your mission”

A sigh, he looked almost pleadingly desperate, “Please, I rather not think of this now.”

Why would he avoid answering that question? Did he seriously believe the Dominion could retain its current power without resistance? One they had majorly underestimated for sure. But she didn’t press, no need to agitate him further. It would come sooner or later and she was not sure whether she liked him going to some stupid war for one stupid ideology.

She looked down and back up, he had shifted his attention on the trap door heaving it open.

“Well, the ritual chamber nearly above the sleeping chamber. How lovely”, Ayera snorted at his sarcasm and followed him up the ladder, having forgotten about the potions.

The sleeping chamber itself was not lavish with a bed, desk, chest and a wardrobe. Would be too easy if they would find their armor and weapons in them, well he had thought her soul was attainable. Arrogant mage.

She burst out laughing when they found their weapons and armor in the chest and wardrobe. For once something was going alright. Her laughter earned her a reproachful look from him as he dressed in his leather garments for underneath his armor.

“Stop laughing, you are only embarrassing yourself.”

More laughter bubbled up in her throat and she leaned over the chest holding her stomach. He must have decided to just let her be. As her laughter died down and clarity returned to her, Erador was leaning against the door with crossed arms and raised eyebrows.

“You done?”

“No, need to get my armor on still.”

“You could have done it sooner if you haven’t started laughing like a witch.” Someone had a low sense of humour today. Snorting she returned her attention to the chest content, sure enough her weapons were in there. Dagger, bow and arrows. Would Tristwyr had sold them if he had succeeded? Might explain why they haven’t found anything which could have belonged to his victims.

He had left the room while she put on her chest piece, boots and gauntlets. One last look at the room for anything useful she sheathed her dagger in its scabbard. It seemed the sleeping chamber led directly to the room where they had been poisoned. She viewed it all in a new light now. It must have been easy to slip the sleeping draught in with a shelf so close to the cooking pit. There was still some remnant of the soup now cold in the pot with the fire extinguished.

“It is night outside, not a time I want to wander around in the mountains”, nodding she walked over to where he sat at the table. Climbing to the peak and down was best to be done with daylight. He had the map of Skyrim spread on the surface and was studying it with a creased eyebrow. After a while he pointed with his finger on the mountain range, east of the peak.

“I believe we are and”, he slid the finger further north and west to a sign with Morthal written next to it, “we need to get to Morthal.”

“In Morthal we will continue to search for her?”

“What else?” he snapped while pinching the bridge of his nose.

“We didn’t find her in Whiterun fortunately, how can we be sure she is not somewhere in Stormcloak territory?” How did someone justify their own location without being too obvious?

“She hates the Stormcloaks and they are looking for her.”

“So she avoids those regions altogether?”

“I can vouch for that.” Well, she was where he was. Kind of funny when thought of it like that. How was she going to break it to him? She still didn’t trust him with that detail of her identity… just yet, she would have to in the end.

“Alright, Morthal it is. We will get moving once day breaks.”

“Are we in the middle of the night or close to dawn?”

“I would say close to dawn, but we still have some hours yet.”

“So… what do we do?”

“Eat, anything, we need our strength if we are to climb the peak and down to the marshes.”

Eat? Of all things, he was thinking of food? What about anything they could sell for some coin? Coin bought food. Well not here, but in Morthal. How long were they planning to stay there? Ulfric won’t sleep and at one point they would need to move again.

“Is there something in this shelf?” He stood up and walked past her and rummaged through the contents of it.

“Hm, leek, potato….”

“Salt?” Sighing she went over to him, if they ate then at least something she could force down. He shifted through the food and nodded. At least some sort of flavor, if she would have to cook.

“So do you cook?” she looked somewhere else. Cooking was something she could never really do well. If she could avoid doing it herself, she went into an inn or asked the people who knew she was terrible at it. No wonder, alchemy was a disaster with her.

She expected an incredulous look when he turned around to face her with potatoes and leeks in his hand.

“No…” then he broke into a grin, “I can, really good as well.” Involuntarily her lips twitched upwards at his confident smile.

“Just sit back and I will do something”, with that he set to work while she leaned back on the bench beside the table. For a Thalmor, he was far too enthusiastic about cooking than their racial superiority fanatics.

“You know most people put cabbage into the stew with the potatoes, but I think leek always tasted better…” Smiling she continued listening to him rambling, well not really rambling, but she didn’t understand half of the things he was saying. How salt could be overdosed. That was new, there was no such thing as too much salt. It had saved many meals from being spit out by her, not really from Lydia vomiting it out later on. _Oh no, don’t remember her…_. This time tears didn’t spring to her eyes, this feeling was more… bittersweet. One less weakness.

She hadn’t realized she had phased out and her mind was somewhere else, when Erador placed a bowl of steaming stew in front of her.

“Your mind in the aetherius, Ayera?” He was in a good mood. That was for sure. She didn’t want to bring that down and smiled back at him reassuringly.

“No, I was just thinking.”

“So your head was in Aetherius” he muffled out with a spoon in his mouth. One thing she noticed was that he always dug into food. Well, he made the food, so he really didn’t need to worry about any poison. But right now, it had a small bitter after taste to just not question anything. She picked up her spoon, just hesitated.

“Is this because of the lunatic downstairs you aren’t eating?” He read her too easily, how could it have been so obvious she was hesitant?

“I…” she raced through any potential lies, why should she lie? This was not something she had to lie about and lying to him felt worse ever since the incident at Loreius Farm. Sighing, she nodded instead of answering more and risking more lies to spill from her.

His face softened and he set down his spoon which made her frown.

“I understand, but you need your strength to walk. How long is the climb?”

He was right, just her stomach was knotting again and she looked down. No way she could keep the food down there.

“I am just…”

“Hesitant because we were put to sleep here?” He had hit the nail on its head and driven it fully in.

“Yes.”

A sigh and she heard some wood creaking underneath his weight. Lifting her head up, she looked at him again. He had shifted so he was basically straddling the bench and was looked at her curiously.

“He is dead, I cooked this you saw that”, he paused and she saw his face hardening slightly, “or do you not simply trust me?”

Ice water had been dumped on her head, goosebumps raised on her skin. She didn’t want to answer the question. On one hand she didn’t trust him enough to disclose that other part of her, probably asleep by now, as on the other one she did after what they had gone through. After all, she wasn’t lying when she said the Dragonborn was not her… _anymore_. A scowl appeared on his face when she hesitated further.

“So you don’t.”

“No” she burst out “I do trust you, but…”

“But this was all too recent?”

Gratefully, she nodded. Hopefully he understood that. Well he kind of did with the reassuring smile he had sent her way. Why was he so kind to her? He must have ulterior motives. Manipulating her would be easier if she had warmed up to him. Yes that must be it. Looking down again she stirred in her soup then took a bite. By Sithis this was delicious. Who knew he could actually cook, a Thalmor? Something bubbled up in her, well she knew what it was, but it wasn’t appropriate now to laugh.

Then it was out, laughing with Erador looking as if she had grown a third eye.

“What is so funny?” there was a suspicious undertone.

“Nothing, just you can cook”, this caused another surge come forward and she was lying half way on the table laughing. He looked positively irritated now.

“You don’t like it?”

“No, I like it. It is just I would have never thought you of all people could cook!”

“Hey, I am a man of many talents!”

“I am not doubting it” she had to gulp for breath, “but this is so funny!”

His face contorted into annoyance, “Are you done mocking me?” Sithis, he thought she had been mocking him. Back paddle! She sobered up immediately,   
“No, but you a Thalmor who is high and mighty above everyone else. Don’t you have servants to cook for you?”

A raised eyebrow,

“Yes we do have a cook in our home in Summerset Isle, but on the field you learn a lot.”

On the field?

“You mean as in soldiers being on a mission?”

“Yes, a good meal was sometimes the best thing that could happen to us before a mission”, he had a far-off look. Probably remembering those. Not that she could really. Cooking was an inevitable evil in the wilds if she didn’t find a farmer or traveler on her way. The stomach pains sometimes from undercooked meat made her shiver, they had been nearly just as bad when she got her moon’s blood.

“It is good”, he looked back at her and smiled.

“Thank you, what about you?”

“Uh, you rather not want to know”, she shrugged at him and he chuckled.

“Let me guess, a disaster in Alchemy as well?”

“Yes, about every potion blows up somehow?”

“I don’t believe you, potions can’t explode.”

“You would be very surprised when it comes to me.” Another chuckle.

“Oh Auriel, I want to see that. You blowing up a healing potion.” She flushed a bright crimson when she remembered how she blew up the alchemy station in Arcadia’s shop by mixing something with wheat. Boom, even Arcadia knew she had put in the wrong kind of ingredient which had been fine, but she always managed to get the quantities wrong.

“Well,” he started and had a short moment where he laughed, “you could have invented a new weapon. Exploding potions” he looked at her with a straight face. It didn’t hold long to her dismay, he was bent over the table laughing again. Was it that funny?

“Oh my, I can just imagine you standing bent over the alchemy table and then” he laughed harder, but she didn’t need to know what he imagined. Sighing she returned to the food and continued eating. _Men_. But at least he was laughing.

“You know, Ayera” he stopped and she looked back at him again with a frown.

“Sometimes I am glad you weren’t a Nord who supported Ulfric.” What was that supposed to mean? Sure, it meant he would have had to kill her to get to her friend with no clue. Her heart jumped into her throat. No he didn’t mean it in a personal way, he is a Thalmor on a mission. How could she be sure he was not lying to her like she was to him? This was hurting her head. One more spoon, just forget and let herself go in the conversation. Sighing softly,

“You aren’t so bad either.” That was the most he would get from her, after all he was the one who had held a dagger at her throat to make her cooperate. Not even the strife for survival would excuse this.

A snort, “Not too bad, here I am giving you a compliment you only give a second rate one?” The teasing was evident in his voice, making her smile at him.

“What? Surely no Breton could ever match you in your compliments” she winked and was rewarded with a twinkle in his eyes.

“You know I am a man and we always like being complimented by a woman”, oh Auriel, this mer seriously had an ego as big as Ulfric’s, but just not insufferable. Was that even possible? Apparently this mer had the most irritating ability to overhaul those believes.  

She laughed and ate again. This time he didn’t remark anything and they finished eating in silence. It was strange leaving the house with its dead owner in the basement, a lone house in the wilderness. Not that someone would miss that scum for sure.

The sun was casting its warm morning light into their faces when they stepped out. They would be walking away from it for now, up the mountain and then down. Was the peak still deserted after her defeat of the dragon or had wildlife reclaimed it? The skeleton might be still there, how was she going to drag him away from that? He would most certainly want to know what she knew, as if she knew. Her friend didn’t take her to the Dragons, she was far too weak for those.

“This time we go for settlements, no more lone necromancers trying to steal our souls” far too cheerful referencing the occasion.

“As if we are going to encounter more of those lunatics” she rolled her eyes and adjusted her cloak again. The sun might warm their faces for now, the cold from the night was still there. Probably won’t lessen that much at the middle of the day.

“No, presumably not” she concentrated on the peak in the distance and tried to remember the way up there again. There had been a small footpath, deserted because of the dragon, maybe it had more traffic than before. Or not, if it wasn’t well known then the chances of encountering Stormcloak troops would be down. They had not really rested last night and she worried, could they last a whole day without sufficient rest? Looking over to him, she bit her lip. He had said he had soldier training so marching without rest shouldn’t be a problem for him, but her? The last three nights she had barely had a deep sleep. Not that she felt it now, it will come sooner than later, however.

They didn’t really talk while marching up  the mountain, preserving strength, but were panting by the time they reached the point where steps replaced the rocky ground. They had reached the peak.

“Steps?” shocked he stopped and looked at her.

“I don’t know” she offered her poor explanation. Nordic structures, they had reached the word wall and around the bent with the bushes hindering their sight they would see the place where an ancient dragoncult structure used to be, well that was what she believed it had once been.

There should be a stream here or was it past the peak? They should drink something sooner or later, mead and ale wouldn’t do it in the evening.

“Well, we will see” he pressed on, striding around the bent with the cloak swishing. What would he say to the skeleton?

“By Auriel…” his gasp made her walk faster to catch up. Internally chuckling at his wide eyed expression while eyeing the white bone head staring at them, she took in the scenery. Nothing really had changed, except maybe more plants having reclaimed most of the peak again, but it was still bare.

“That is a dragon?” She only nodded and walked around the skull which reached her waist and looked at the word wall again. Something tugged in her, she suppressed it however. She had never been here. Erador was still occupied eyeing the monstrous remain of a vicious battle, as she walked up another flight of steps to the open space of the ruins. It all was so eerily silent. Why was there no wildlife? Surely after two years at least foxes or wolves would have come back. She didn’t like this.

The sun was nearly at its peak when she looked up from the word wall.

“Ayera, is this what happens when the Dragonborn absorbs the Dragon’s soul?” there was a certain edge to his voice. Sighing she turned around to his blank expression. What was he thinking? That she was too dangerous? Too dangerous for the deal?

“Yes” she gritted out. His brows moved a tiny up. This was more of astonishment than fright. Well, if someone managed to frighten him.

“Then… oh Auriel” he was speechless, she smiled at his stuttering and glancing back at the skeleton lying on the steps to the rest of the ruin. It was surreal she had to admit, creatures made by the chief deity were fallible by a chosen of that same one. Cruel in a way, but then again, cruelty was a part of them as well. Paarthurnax had said that they were made to dominate, as was she. What would she give to have him here right now? She walked back to Erador who had moved closer to the bones and stared into the hollow eye sockets. No feelings came. A hand came down on her shoulder, “Ayera, your friend” she turned her head towards him, “to devour a whole soul, that I just…” he left the thought discontinued. Frowning she stepped closer to him. She wanted to hear what he wanted to say. Though, he pulled his shoulders up and muttered “nothing.”

Confused, she was rooted to her place when he turned and walked off. Not even once did he look to ensure she was following him. What was going on with him? Why the sudden change?

“Erador?” calling after him didn’t deter him either. A heavy feeling settled in her stomach, she couldn’t see into his head. Sithis, if she got out of this with her sanity intact… Picking up her pace she reached his side and caught up with him well into the descent from the peak.

“Erador” she tried again, only earning a quick glance nothing more. The feeling nearly made her sick. Was it because of her? Not everything resolved around her, but she was the only one around at the moment.

Softer this time she tried again, stretching out her hand to touch him. She couldn’t feel whether he was tense or not under his armor or not. At least this time, he stopped. Just didn’t turn around. Gripping onto him tightly, she had him listening now, she walked around to face him. A deep scowl tensed jaw greeted her. How was she proceed with this?

“What is wrong?” cringing internally she waited for his reply. This was the most awkward way to ask, but what else could she do? The look she got was more of annoyance than anger. Progress at least. So she waited for him to open his mouth and finally tell her what had him so… brooding. It took a while until he finally forced himself to speak.

“It doesn’t concern you”, her face fell. This was not the answer she had been hoping for. But she would be damned if she let that deter her.

“No,” she gripped him tighter and he stared harder at her, “you will tell me what is wrong here and now.” His face grew cold and her heart fell. He didn’t want to tell her, there was no trust on his side. Like she was any better. It took him not a lot of effort to her shame to shake her off and continue marching with a bitter expression. She stood there dumbfounded for a few moments not able to process what was happening. What had him so riled up?

“Are you coming or not?” it was malicious. Flinching she continued marching along him. Crossing her arms she pointedly looked away from him. She didn’t care what he thought. That was what she kept telling herself really. Why was nothing for once easy with this mer?

In silence they walked down, avoiding roots, rocks and too steep parts. All the while not exchanging a single word. It irked her, they had made such good progress getting more on friendlier terms with each other. How could they travel together until they found her friend and not talk? Pressure was building in her temples. Great, a headache… groaning she thought how she could survive the day. Lack of sleep and now him being a jerk. Divines, for once make her life easy.

What would they eat today? The rabbit she had shot yesterday had been dumped somewhere by Tristwyr and she had lacked the energy to search for it. Where would they cook it as well? Belethor’s supplies could be used and what they had taken from the other one. Just in the Marshes they had less hunting or collecting options. Probably more of an advantage to eat them then and not in the mountains where they still had plenty until they reached the base.

Nothing happened which she was grateful for. Well, if Erador’s mood was discounted they had reached the halfway point without too much problem and the path got less steep. Somehow she had hoped he would talk eventually on his own, but no luck, he kept silent all the time. What was he thinking? It made her nearly sick to not know what was going on and for all she knew it could be something she had unwittingly done.

Her senses tingled, _not now_. She pushed them down and concentrated on Erador’s back trying to sort through the events. Necromancer, he had been very talkative, it all changed when he saw that dragon. Well, she hasn’t really said anything but answer his questions. Had those displeased him? He would have said so if he hadn’t liked them.

“Halt”, she nearly jumped when ripped from her musings. A man clad in steel armor had built himself up in front of Erador with his weapon drawn. She had fallen back while brooding and quickened her pace to reach his side. The man’s eyes fell on her shortly , then shifted back to Erador who had a clenched jaw.

“What do you want from us?” it was gritted out and with an undertone of arrogance. _Don’t provoke them_. Gripping his arm was more on an instinct, not that he could feel her tightening it through his armor. But it did cause him to shift in his stance.

“Your companion has a bounty on her head”,  her eyes widened, a damn bounty letter…. Who put a bounty on her head? Those were mercenaries looking for a quick coin. Did she really look that harmless? An involuntary sneer formed on her face. What a rookie mistake.

“I am sorry to inform you brainless brute that my wife has done nothing”, he glanced towards her, was there annoyance there? Oh great, he also blamed her. The man had a dumbfounded look on his face which contorted in fury at the insult.

“I would keep your mouth shut, filthy elf”, he advanced closer making him appear bigger. Intimidation tactics, effective on the less experienced. She looked past him into the group of trees nearby. There must be others with him. Only a fool would dare to demand to collect the bounty on someone’s head by approaching them without sufficient backup. Sure enough there were, it was difficult to count them in the shadows thrown by the sun. Five or six?

A jerk made her focus back on Erador again. _Don’t do something stupid_. His upper lip was drawn up in a sneer and he had the ability to look down his nose on the Nord in front of them who practically towered over them.

“My wife” he emphasized wife, “is no way a criminal and you would do well to let us pass.”

The Nord only snorted and looked to her again, his grey eyes were hard assessing her. She shivered involuntarily. This was the gaze of a predator certain to have won his prey. How should they proceed? Engaging him would be taking in the risk that there more than the five or six she had counted, so there had to be another way.

“Your wife, eh?” She laid her arm around Erador’s waist and pressed herself closer to him. Her face dug into the hard ebony of his armor underneath the cloak making her wince slightly. Their act had to be impeccable to convince them. He didn’t seem to notice her motion to play the frightened wife. Not good, if he didn’t play along they would move to apprehend her. Then, she swallowed thickly; she might end up in Ulfric’s clutches. Oh Auriel, please spare her from that fate.

“Yes my wife” one thing she had to hold to him, he could be very menacing when he wanted to. Well not really a surprise. _Elves_.

A raised eyebrow, not good, he didn’t believe them. Her thoughts ran wild. What could she do to reinforce that idea? Cuddling closer would be too obvious, maybe hide her face and shiver? Give a display of fear? Might work. So she did, she buried her face into Erador’s side, her nose being squashed into the ebony, making her eyes squeeze shut. _Please work_. An arm wound around her squeezed her against him further. Finally he had caught on, took him long enough. Her poor nose, was her second thought.

“Hmpf” a snort. Please work, she mumbled against the cloth while waiting with frayed nerves. Something sounding like paper rustled.

“Do you agree that the woman on this looks just like your wife?”

“Surely the drawing would make every woman look the same. So leave us be,” Erador sneered back.

Dagger was in place, drawing the bow would take too much time and he was too close. If it came to a fight what would the others do, rush in or did they have bows as well? Magic and her dagger had to do, but what if… don’t concentrate on that, she had lost when she thought like that.

“I do not believe you”, her heart fell. Her dagger, she needed to get it before he dragged to Ulfric. Divines knew what he was going to do to her. The arm around her tightened, did he have a plan?

“Well, believe what you want but we are walking now.” He took a step nearly causing her to falter at the abruptness. Then she was shoved back violently.

“Hey take your hands of my wife!”

“She is not your wife.”

“She is.” Her heart was speeding, how else could they persuade them?

“Husband, they are scaring me” her voice wavered. Squeezing tears out didn’t work however, damn it. He looked down on her, his eyes had softened at least. He was good, or was it honest? She was drawn in closer to him, they were close… too close.

“Sweety,” his voice was awfully…sweet, any other time she would have cringed visibly, “this is all a misunderstanding, we will be on our way soon.” He reached out with his other hand and stroked her cheek. Her skin tingled when his fingers touched it and the feeling stayed after it had trailed down and away. She’d never understand her reactions to his touches. It distracted her for a moment with that pleasant feeling.

Another snort, why was he not buying it? Her stomach clenched, muscles tensed and her eyes flitted across the path. Little space, not much room to evade and flee. Not good, so not good.

“You two are good, but she is the exact image of the woman on the bounty.” He was stubborn, well he was actually right. What could they do to make them think she was the wrong person? Looking up she saw Erador pinching the bridge of his nose. Probably thinking with what kind of buffoons he was dealing with. It tugged her lips slightly upwards.

“We are not… enacting, that would be frivolous.”

The mercenary crossed his arms and had a pensive look. Please get to the conclusion that they were not the people he was looking for.

“I don’t believe you”, she slipped her right arm which was out of view down to the scabbard which held her dagger and gripped its hilt tightly. They would have to fight, even if the odds could turn in against their favour very quickly.

“Believe what you wish, we have a mother in law waiting” another snort, when could this all be over? Erador made a move to walk past the man. Her hair stood on end, if the man… he did, he ripped his sword up. A great sword her mind registered numbly.

“You are not going anywhere until you hand over the woman” it was cold and low. Erador eyed the blade travelling up its length with a mocking smile.

“Steel, huh?” Then he drew his sword, black ebony flashing as it reflected the sun. Her grip on her dagger tightened even more. It would only be a matter of time now.

“Oh, someone with guts and a fancy sword” the bandit mocked back. Then he made the first move. It was as if time had slowed down, she couldn’t draw her dagger fast enough for her tastes. She dodged the first arrow aimed for her shoulder, and dove behind a boulder next to the path. Charging up a lightning spell in her left hand she peeked over to see Erador engaged in a furious exchange of slashes and swipes with the leader it seemed. There were others approaching, she needed to help him, was her first instinct. Lightning flashed past the two fighting in the middle of the road and hit the first in the chest, the bandit spasmed before falling flat on her face never to move again.

“Get her and kill him” the leader shouted. Oh Sithis, frantically looking around she gripped her dagger and moved away from the rock. It would only hinder escape routes. Another arrow flew past her, missing her face by mere hair widths.

Erador was still battling the man, but she could see he had a more determined glint in his eyes than before. Thalmor and their dedication to missions. The next one had to die really quickly, not one should be able to grab her. She couldn’t fight three at once.

The first was clad in furs, daggers had a hard time pushing through leather. Her eyes darted to any possible skin she could stab. There the neck had a fine line of skin showing. She surged forward, he raised his shield, her body slammed into it, driving him backwards. Gripping the edge of his shield she yanked it down only to be greeted with his sword being raised to take a stab at her. Letting the shield go she sidestepped the swipe and stabbed downwards into his vulnerable spot. It crunched as her dagger pierced skin and bone. The man went down screaming holding the profusely bleeding wound. He would bleed out eventually.

Another yelp, from behind told her that the leader had been wounded by Erador.

“Filthy elf” she didn’t turn around. Erador was a capable warrior.

This time an arrow hit her in the shoulder throwing her onto her back at the force with the arrow sticking out. It hadn’t gone through, thank the Divines. Damn archers. Rolling to the side she avoided another coming her way and yanked it out forcefully. Coming up she was face to face with Erador who had wide eyes and a hand outstretched towards her. The man behind him cackled and swung his greatsword out and cut down in a long arch.

“Watch out!” was she could yell.

Erador whirled around just in time to parry the blow enough to lessen the force, not enough to make him stumble backwards. Her heart nearly stopped when he had to catch his footing and parry another blow which would have decapitated him. She was useless…. The only advantage that had happened was that she was behind him now and the other bandits now had to be drawn out to get her. Swallowing and readying herself with lightning spell and dagger she waited for them to charge.

That they did, with a bellowing battle cry. She wondered briefly whether Ulfric would have heard that all the way in Whiterun. Pushing that thought out of her head she faced the charging bandits. There had been not the four remaining she had estimated, she realized with a sinking heart. A whole clan was more like it; those were eight more charging at her. Oh Sithis. Discharging another spell only brought down one, causing the others to raise their shields. A yell and she turned her head shortly to see Erador’s sword penetrating the leader’s armor into his heart. Then he turned his attention to the advancing bandits.

Her heart stopped when he threw himself forward. He was going to get himself killed! Oh Talos, please preserve him. She followed him into the fray, with her dagger and lightning spell. Where was this damn archer from before? A sword stabbed in her direction, she ducked dodging it, then forced it up with her dagger, leaving the attacker wide open for her to stab him into the throat. He gargled pitifully when her dagger found its mark, making his life spill out on the ground. Suddenly she was shoved backwards causing her to lose her footing. Shaking her ringing ears she looked up in fright on the raised war axe ready to strike her down. Lightning, discharge the lightning! Lifting up her hand sparks flew through the air. It was a weak spell she didn’t have enough time to charge a stronger spell. The bandit spasmed, die, just die! He didn’t, with horror she scrambled backwards just in time for the axe to slam into the ground whirling dirt up. A green flash hit him, confused Ayera watched dumbfounded as his muscles tightened and he fell down, her head shot to her side seeing Erador throwing those green flashes around. Paralysis spell it hit her, lurching forward she stabbed the man on the ground before he could get up, he died from not being able to prevent the blood loss. Erador had to teach her that spell later. Charging another lightning spell she looked around for another enemy. It struck a bandit frantically looking for her weapon, she slouched into the ground with an outstretched arm.

She swung out again turning around to another assailant who raised her shield successfully blocking her dagger which struck through the wood and got stuck. _Oh to Sithis with all of this_! Trying to yank it out didn’t work. It was deeply lodged into it. The bandit used her momentary distraction to pull the shield to the side, pulling her arm with it leaving her open. A sword was raised and in an act of insanity she gripped the bandit’s arm slowing down the descent. Damn her opponent was strong, her arm was shaking with exertion. Biting her lip she strained even more, looking right into the hateful look of the bandit. _Let go of the dagger_. No, letting go of the dagger would mean one less mean to defend. _Otherwise she’ll be dead_ _if she didn’t let go_! Was she even strong enough to punch her in the face and drive her back? _Just do it_ _and longer the chance will be gone_!

It took immense willpower to let go of her weapon, the familiar weight missing in her empty hand now. The air crackled as the instinctively charged lightning spell as she raised her fist. Eyes wide, the Bandit could only watch as Ayera’s right hand shot up and released the lightning into her face gritting her teeth in pain as some of the lightning shot through her arm. Ayera kicked the dead body away from her as it slumped against her, leaving her free to move again. Though, she missed her dagger. Wincing she grabbed her right arm which felt numb, she knew later it would hurt like Oblivion later. A yell and she whirled around to face another opponent charging at her. Without her dagger all she could do was evade until there was enough space and time without getting part of the spell back at her again. If her arm didn’t feel numb anymore, she wasn’t sure whether she could channel anything through it for a time. It was too late, he was onto her now swinging the sword with the flat side towards her temple. Throwing herself to the ground, the sword hacked into empty air, leaving the attacker winded. Damn, she was losing her edge. She needed her dagger! Looking around from the ground she tried finding the familiar black red blade. Suddenly there were black boots in her vision. Ebony… Erador! He stepped over her, near her temples making her flinch. What was he doing? A scream and the gurgling sound of choking on blood were heard. Oh, he killed the bandit for her. She had to get up, but where was her dagger? Where was it, panting she twisted to the other side, where was the shield? A hand grabbed her by the neck of her armor and she was forcibly hauled up. Her stomach dropped low as the world spun shortly. There were still some snarling bandits charging at them. Sithis, if she survived this. Her arm was still useless; she doubted she won’t be able to lift it for a long while. Three of them and she was exhausted, how had they survived the battle for Whiterun? Where was her edge? If she could only use her bow…. The hand was gone from her neck. Somehow it had helped her stand upright, she wobbled on shaky knees as Erador dashed past her with a scavenged shield on his left arm. There was blood on his forehead, neck…. Hopefully not his, she hoped. Before she could think otherwise she took a shaky step in his direction. She had to help, no way was she going to let him fight this alone. Lifting her remaining arm she charged another spell, sweat was forming on her forehead, this was taxing. The crackle died out, damn it, concentrate! Frowning she focused on the lightning spell again, the tell tale crackle came again. It wavered, straining against her control. _Oh no, let it go_! She did, it flashed through the air into a tree. Wood splintered and an agonized cry filled the air. Her knees wobbled and she had trouble focusing her vision as it blurred. Who had fallen, she didn’t know. _Take a deep breath, get the haziness gone_. She needed to move. A step to the right and colours went back as they were before. Erador seemed slow in his movements, sluggish even whilst blocking the merciless onslaught by the bandit. Movement behind him made her snap her gaze to the last one stalking stealthily with a Warhammer raised towards him. She needed to help him, her knees nearly gave out while she did another step forward. If she could just distract him enough… another spell would mean unconsciousness for her, she couldn’t afford that.

“Hey” she surprised herself “Come here you warthog!” Sometimes she had the maddest ideas at the worst times. But it worked, the bandit swiveled around and saw her. Snarling he readjusted his grip on the hammer and then with her frozen for a moment he charged. New energy returned to her limbs and she scrambled away from the blow which threw of dirt from the ground where the hammer had impacted. That had been a terrible idea, where to?

Her foot caught on something, she stumbled and fell on her fours. No, no he is nearly there. Twisting her body she saw him advancing smiling cruelly. Assured of victory, or was this insanity born of blood lust seeing that most of his comrades were dead? _Don’t think, get a weapon_! She reached out with her good arm fishing on the ground for something, anything she could hurdle at him. Her fingers closed themselves around something round… familiar shape. Her dagger! Finally she had it again. Nocturnal, her thanks. New confidence filled her and she assessed the man charging at her. Throwing the dagger would be no problem, but where? His throat was exposed, but easily swatted away. It would take him longer to reach his head. It was protected though, except the eyes…. She threw the dagger while falling back on her side, watching it rotate in the air towards the man who saw it coming too late. He tried lifting his arms to block it, but laden with the war hammer they were slowed down. With a deafening scream the dagger imbedded itself in his eye hilt deep. He died instantly.

With a sigh of relief she turned her attention back to Erador still sluggishly parrying the hits of the other, but there was something tense in his movements. Like he was waiting for something. Crawling to the now dead bandit she yanked the dagger out, causing blood to squirt out. The next thing she knew and the bandit was clutching a profusely bleeding stump where his arm used to be, screaming. Horrified she froze. Not that she had not seen detached limbs, but it was always new and sickening whenever she saw it. Then the scream was over, the head rolled a few paces until it stopped near her. Panting filled the road as Erador leaned forward on his sword gulping for air.

Forgetting her own fatigue and right arm which still hung limply at her side, she scuffled over on her knees.

“You alright?” Her voice was cracking, she hated herself for that. Show no weakness, she had shown enough in that fight. The look she received made her recoil physically. Menacing and contempt. It all melted away when his face softened.

“I should” he gave out a cracked laugh “how you are still up and breathing.” His eyes shifted to her arm.

“Your arm?” She gripped it with her good arm instinctively. Don’t make him worry, she focused on the nasty cut on his forehead. Blood was still pouring out, worry settled heavily in her stomach. He needed a healing spell, quickly.

“Nothing bad, let me see your cuts.”  She reached out with her good arm while Erador let himself fall on his knees. The skin was tender and stiff. It will be a bruise later that much was sure. Right now her concern was the deep cut on his forehead, if left untreated it could get infected and that would mean the sure death. Summoning the healing spell was difficult, her magicka exhausted from the strenuous use of lightning, unused to the more gentle flow of restoration magic. The golden glow wasn’t as vibrant as usual, but it had to do. It took a while until the skin had knit itself together and she was satisfied enough to end the spell. 

Sighing she looked at him again. Breathing was still heavy, she frowned, too labored for her taste. There was something else. Cracked ribs? Shifting again she edged closer while observing him. He had his eyes shut and his mouth shut tightly. _Not good, so not good_. Looking around, she saw the ground littered with corpses. They needed to move as soon as possible. Who knew there were more? Or worse Stormcloaks would be coming through here.

_First, get him up and breathing again_. Tentatively she reached out again with her left arm and touched his neck. He flinched, she wasn’t wanted. She quickly snatched her hand away and waited for him to berate her. Nothing of the sorts came except him finally opening his eyes again.

“That bastard got me good on my shoulder” a cracked smile and she wanted to slap him. A hit to the shoulder was no laughing matter by Sithis! But she couldn’t really help it, she smiled alongside with him. He was alive, maybe with a shoulder injury but still breathing and kicking.

“Let me see it then” imploring softly she stretched her hand out again and touched the clasps holding the shoulder parts together. A huff and before she could distract him, he had grabbed her right arm.

“What happened to this one?” there was no menace in his voice, but plain concern. She didn’t know how to react, how did someone explain that one of her lightning spells had also backfired on her? He would laugh for sure, chewing on her lip she got to work on the clasp singlehandedly. It didn’t work, she knew that. Clasps couldn’t be opened with only one hand, but she had hoped he would be distracted enough not to mention her arm again. Shifting her hand up to the edge where the armor ended and his skin began she pressed down hard, intentionally. Let it drop, her arm will be fine. Later. He hissed. She expected him to get the hint and let it drop. Just he didn’t, a snarl which made her swallow thickly. Sithis, she always had to screw up with him.

“You are injured, Ayera. Let me have a look and then you can think about my shoulder.” He left no room for argument, when she was suddenly and forcibly shoved backwards. With a yelp of surprise she fell on her back with him sitting on her stomach and gently removing her gauntlet. Sometimes, she wished she could just do the same, overwhelm him and over go his stupid wishes. Damn he was heavy, at least this time her dragonscale armor prevented him from sinking further down, she would have surely vomited up the stew.

She didn’t feel the gauntlet coming off or the cool air hitting the skin of her fingers. Turning her head she focused on her hand being held by him. It was disturbing not to feel his touch. Not that she wanted to feel his particular touch, but the loss of a sensatory perception left her reeling mentally. Could she move them? No, unresponsive. He prodded the skin, she focused her eyes on the spot. There was a light pink scarring there. Forked, like lightning. She didn’t feel the spell, but she saw the glow on her skin. It took a while and all through that she avoided eye contact. Holding her hand was an intimate gesture even if just to heal her arm, but there was this light feeling in her stomach. Nocturnal, was that her price for saving her skin in that battle? Making a gesture of comradery feel so… intense.

A tingling spread on her palm of her hand, pressure sense returned. Mesmerized she stared at her hand as the pressure of his fingers and the spell’s warmth grew in intensity as her senses returned to her hand. _Don’t look into his eyes, don’t make this more awkward. Look at the leaf there, just focus on that_. Brown, flecked with occasional yellow, sharp edges. It lay there on the path, as if no fight had happened around it just moments ago. How could that leaf been undisturbed? With all that fighting and not even a single drop of blood on it. She could feel again in her fingers now, the tingling feeling proceeded down to her hand balls. _Don’t look_ , she had to tell herself again when her head nearly turned on itself. The tingling became unpleasant when it travelled down her arm restoring her sense of touch again. She looked back, seeing her hand still being held by him, even if she could move it, she didn’t. No need to disturb the moment, he was still healing her.

“That should do it” he said abruptly and got up from her stomach and moved to her side. Gingerly putting weight on her right arm she turned over to him undoing the clasp on his shoulder piece. Snorting she understood now, he hadn’t wanted to be in her debt for healing him. Mers and their pride. The clasp snapped open and he lifted it a bit for her to see. Wincing she looked at the massive bruise forming there already. His ebony armor had caught most of the impact, but some force of the blow had come through. They would need to have a smith have a look at the armor once they were in Morthal. Summoning her healing spell in both hands, she channeled it towards his shoulder. Hopefully, this was all, no broken bone. She should look. He hissed when she prodded the location where the bruise looked the worst. Nothing felt out of place except very firm. Lucky mer, no broken bone.

“What was that for?” rolling her eyes she explained “I looked whether they was a broken bone…” before she could continue he interrupted: “You can do that?” He sounded incredulous. Raising an eyebrow she stared at him. What did he mean? That was one of the first things Danica had explained to her after she had asked for lessons as a compensation for reviving the Eldergleam. Not that it had impeded her work, Danica had been more than happy there was another set of helping hands.

“Yes, I can” he nodded and looked the other way. “I suppose I have no broken one?”

“You don’t have a broken bone, don’t worry” she returned to casting her healing spell.

“I thought you knew about healing spells?”

“It is in basic training, but broken bones are advanced topics for the medics”, he explained patiently like it was the most obvious thing in Tamriel. That was interesting, she had no experience in armies, but she had assumed that since elves had a natural knack for magic, restoration magic would be taught in detail to them.

“Why only the basics?”

“Because soldiers are trained in the other schools and having a specialized restoration mage is better than more with just basic knowledge.”

“Yeah, but certainly you could study it more in detail.”

A sigh, “We can’t, some don’t have the ability to do much with restoration and it takes a certain mindset to do so.” He regarded her more openly this time.   
“And you displayed a certain understanding of restoration magic that goes beyond the basics” she looked down to hide her heated cheeks. Not once had someone complimented her on her skills. What was she to say to that, Lydia had said similar things, but she had been her housecarl. Also her friend… _No stop, don’t remember_. Concentrating on the spell again she continued healing while chewing her lower lip. He had complimented her, he of all people. The mer who blackmailed her to co operate initially, not the thieves guild, they only nodded whenever she returned from a successful heist. The assassins well, they were different, but it was mainly her duty say such things to the others.

He touched her shoulder and she looked back at him? Right now, she didn’t know what to make of him. One time he was outright cruel and sometimes like now, encouraging or comforting her. To say she was confused would be an understatement.

“There is no need to look down, restoration is maybe an underrated school of magic, but it is essential on the field. I don’t know who taught you, I can’t judge but I know assessing broken bones is advanced restoration magic.”

Her mouth only formed an O. She was overwhelmed. A healer, her? An assassin and thief had a talent for healing? That was… unexpected. After all, her strength lay in the destruction school. Still one out of five, so was it really that unconceivable she might be good in another? Destruction and the few basics in restoration had always worked just fine.

Probing the skin and the underlying bone structure once again, while chewing on her lip, she found no more too firm skin. It wasn’t fully healed yet, but any further spellcasting would exhaust her. She let her hand drop from his shoulder so he could redo the clasps. They looked at each other, she felt the need to shift, this was a far too new feeling for her right now. Some kind of… fluttering in her stomach.

“You know” he started and hesitated, probably looking for words. Why was he so talkative now? All morning he had stayed silent, except when they had seen the dragon. Looked like it took a close call encounter with bounty hunters to loosen his jaw.

“I was wondering if you can wield a sword.” A sword? Daggers were just fine, well today had been an exception, but they were just as useful as swords.

“I don’t know”, she admitted truthfully. Well, she did know theoretically. Lydia had tried lives ago to teach her and in the end settled for bow and magic, with a dagger on the side. Swordsmanship she would have had to learn from scratch unlike the others. There had simply either been no time or the opportunity. In the end both of them had forgotten. Assassination needed a dagger, for daggers were small, easily concealed and wielded quickly. Swords were just too slow.

He sighed , “Looks like we have to practice.”

“How should we do it with no extra sword?”

Rolling his eyes in response, “Not now obviously, but once we can you need to wield a stick.”

A stick? The conjured up image of her holding the toy swords some children ran around with made her snort, then laughter burst out of her. She didn’t care he gave her an inquisitive look. It only had the effect that she had to laugh even more while picturing him with one. _Adorable_.

“What’s funny?” She shook her head, damn her sides hurt.

“I want to laugh too!” Oh Nocturnal, if he kept up like that she would die from laughter. Gasping for air she explained “Pictured you…me, us waving around with those toy swords!” She observed his expression. Blank until it sparked into a look of recognition. He threw his head back and laughed. His laughter was loud and how to describe… unrestrained? A stark contrast to his usual reserved chuckles.

“That’s just... a rather comical picture” Flashing her a toothy smile, whilst laughing to himself he stood up. She followed suit, looking for her dagger. It was still embedded into the bandit’s eye. With a wet slurping noise it was drawn out. If they found a stream she would need to wash it out. Straightening out she saw the bloody corpse of the leader. Frowning she eyes his armor pouch. Maybe she’d find an answer to why he hadn’t bought her disguise and their masquerade of wife and husband.

“Erador?” she called out.

“Yes?”

“Didn’t you find it strange that he didn’t buy our husband wife charade?”

A small pause, he was thinking.

“Now that you mention it, yes it is” he walked from behind her and crouched next to the leader, opening the pouch. Lockpicks, which she greedily stuffed into hers, earning her a chuckle from him, then some septims, a silver ring. So the leader had had a wife somewhere… strange thought. Twirling the ring in her fingers she saw a small engraved name. Sturdy silver, the blacksmith who did it was good at his or her trade, probably Markarth. Shrugging it off as a potential selling item, she pocketed it.

“There is the bounty”, she shook out of her musings and looked over his arm to read the piece of parchment.

“It is,” breath left her and she looked back in direction of Whiterun.

“Yes, they got you quite well,” he commented nonchalantly on the picture drawn in charcoal of her face. Who had drawn it? This had been someone who knew her had described her. Saadia, her stomach clenched, could have. She had been righteously furious at her for abandoning the battle and leaving the citizens to their fate. No, she had been in that house since the conquest, she couldn’t have done it. The arm which was placed around her shoulders made her jump slightly.

“I know you are thinking of who could have done this, just we need to move on. As soon as we are out of Skyrim, the better.” Not really, bounty hunters were all over Tamriel, she wouldn’t even be safe in Sumerset Isle. A reassuring squeeze from him didn’t help either. Were there other scouts? Why had the bandits been here? She hadn’t realized she had started hyperventilating, until the note disappeared from her view.

“Look, Ayera,” he had turned around and was gripping her shoulders. _Were there others_?

“Stop panicking, if there were others we would have known.” No she couldn’t stop, they needed to move! Though her limbs didn’t move. He sighed and let her go.

“I think the way leads straight to Morthal?” the completely off topic question threw her off.

“Can you repeat please?”

“Does this path lead straight to Morthal?”

She was confused, of course it lead straight to Morthal! Who had the map? Not her. Stupid question.

“Of course” it came out as a scoff and she cringed internally. But, he only winked and continued marching on. What… oh hang on, he did it on purpose to distract her. Clever, mer.

They marched on like that for the rest of the day, no stopping to rest in between. The bandits had held them up for far too long. Maybe they could find their camp, but she had an inkling that they had marched right past it in their hurry to get as much distance as possible to Whiterun.

Looked like they would have to sleep in the wilds. Not something she felt comfortable about, wolves and other beasts weren’t shy of attacking the weary traveler. Then there would be no cooking opportunity, the rabbit would be spoilt by tomorrow. What a waste then.

Sun was setting already when they reached the base of the mountain. There was a small meadow in front of them, light and with still all the leaves swaying in the wind. Not for long, winter days were close by. Maybe there was a small hut from an illegal poacher they could crash in for tonight. Or a tent at least. Something which would give them cover from hungry wildlife.

With new energy they strode over to the trees, vanishing from sight.

Taking in a deep breath, Ayera could smell the mud from the swamps. They were close to the swamps, but not in them yet. Strange there were no familiar sounds of harmless wildlife. No scuttling or rustling of small critters running around. Weird. Was there none?

“There is a hut!” That explained why there were no animals around here, the owners might have killed them.

“Abandoned?” She wasn’t keen on another lone settler in the middle of nowhere. The necromancer had been enough for her. Coming to his side she saw the hut below them. It was nestled between a crook of boulders. Sheltered and difficult to get to even from above. Clever construction in all sense, but was it empty?

“Well we have to see right?” He commented and crouched down.

“That is quite a drop from here, animals who approach it from here will hesitate jumping down” he had a point, a broken bone and alone in the wild meant certain death. Though what was dangerous for animals could be dangerous for them as well. Broken bones were difficult to heal, even if she possessed an aptitude as Erador had claimed.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go down and help the other” he said. It might work actually. If one of them went down while being hold by the other remaining up then they would be down with no risk of injury. Erador was more suited to go down first; she wasn’t strong enough to catch him. Would most likely be crushed.

“You will go down” she said quickly. He rolled his eyes and smirked.

“Of course, so I can catch you like the maiden in distress”, she hit him in the arm. Smug mer, but she smiled. At least he wasn’t forcing her to do this.

“So you are going to lie on your stomach and hold me by the arm”, he looked at her imploringly to which she only nodded. She crouched as well and went on her knees as well looking down where she would be dangling him. It was a far drop even with her lowering him down a bit, the rocky ground underneath them wouldn’t soften the landing either. Frowning she looked to her left, was there some sort of elevation she could drop him to? None, damn it. If he broke something, she couldn’t get down fast enough, not at all or with an injury on her part as well. Nocturnal, help them one more time.

“Yes, we can go” she lowered herself on her stomach and turned her head to watch him. He approached her slowly, turning his back to the edge. Then he lay down as well, robbing backwards slowly. Laughable nearly, but she stifled a giggle. Not appropriate right now. Totally not.

Stretching out her left hand so he could grab it whenever he was ready she moved slightly away from the edge. The more weight was on the ground here the safer this… stunt would be.

He was dangling down with his legs when he grabbed her wrist and lowered himself further down. Her arm was already straining and he wasn’t even putting his own weight on it. Not good, so not good. What if she dropped him? Grinding her teeth together she forced the pain sensation down. They had survived a bandit attack, they would get through this without too much of a scratch. His weight was pulling on her arm now and she had to rob forward to ease the pain a little bit. All she could see was his head dangling a bit underneath her turned down.

“Drop me.” What? No! He was still too far away from the ground!

“No.”

“Just do it,” he yelled up and she let go. Shall he see that he would get a few bruises. Ones she won’t heal, was her irritated after thought when she let go. He didn’t drop as far as she thought and landed on bent knees with a soft thud. Cocking her head to the side, she saw why after he rolled away. How could she have not seen that small elevation of the ground before?

“Come down now!” he straightened out and held his arms open. Hang on… was he thinking of her jumping into his arms? No, that is just beyond pathetic even for her standards. There must be a way he only helps her down and not puts her down. Pulling her legs to her side she twisted around with her legs over the edge first. Shuffling further to the edge she tried to keep her weight supported by her arms. Fisting a bunch of grass to help her she lowered her legs fully over the edge.

“Let go I will catch you”, she tensed. Should she? No, she couldn’t see whether he was doing what he was saying he was doing. Nocturnal, help her. She needed to see where he was. Twisting her head she looked down. Not a good choice, a sudden jerk went through her right arm and she nearly fell down, when the bunch of grass in her right hand ripped out of the ground.

Sithis, the left one ripped out and she fell. She couldn’t even scream from the shock, if it just had held for a few moments longer and she would have known if Erador would have caught her. All breath left her when she impacted on something hard and then found herself lying on the ground next to him.

“You know we could have saved that if you just had let go” he sounded irritated when he finally caught his breath.

“How could I have known I would slip?”

“Well, you swung to the left and that is why I had to move and couldn’t catch you”, she turned in his direction and froze. Her nose nearly touched his. Too close! Move away, subtly, just don’t insult him. His eyes were twinkling, no don’t get lost in them. Breathing out she swallowed and edged away.

“Then I am sorry”, he sighed and the irritation was gone.

“Well looks like we have a stay for tonight” sitting up he offered her his hand to follow suit.

The hut in itself was tiny, not that they needed space. A table, a shelf and a small bed covered in fur. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. No one had been here for a long while. Her nose tickled, quite forcefully. Sneezing hard she turned away.

“Too much dust?” There was mirth in his voice when he pushed past her.

“oh my, that is a lot…”

“What a genius observation.”

“You sure we can sleep here?”

“Pretty sure, just shake the furs out I suppose.”

“And have all that dust in the air?”

“Any better idea?”

A moment of silence, then “Not really.”

Approaching the bed, she took the blanket between her fingers and carried it out. There she shook it out, which only made her sneeze again. She was stupid, if she just pulled her cowl up she wouldn’t have that problem anymore. It would be wasted energy now to face palm, sleep was calling to her.

Not that it mattered anymore, the furs were shaken and placed back into the small bed frame. They stood in front of it awkwardly. They had shared a bed before, even held each other just in their smallclothes, but why was she hesitating to share the bed this time?

She must be getting insane. No other explanation for it. Tired, she took her cowl of her head and placed it on the table.

“When we get to Morthal, we will get you a better helmet” his voice was somewhat slurred and his eyelids were drooping. He was tired, probably more than her. _He had been doing most of the fighting while she had been useless_. Shameful, pathetic and not worthy. But why another helmet? Her cowl was just fine. Turning around to the bed she saw he was already lying on it. Was… a snore tore through the air and she smiled at that. Too tired to care that they would be too close to being appropriate again. She could learn that from him. Not caring about how appropriate they were right now, practicality had to take priority. Well, they were posing as husband and wide, no harm in just lying next to each other.

Gingerly lowering herself next to him, she shifted so he could continue sleeping, but she wasn’t also dangling halfway of the bed. Even if it meant lying halfway on him. He deserved that much, sleep that is.

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep again, falling and rising with his breath. After all, the cold was best held at bay huddled together.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they found out there is a bounty letter on her head. Now, who would do that?   
> but they are finally out of Whiterun hold and Erador saw the remnants of a dragon having his soul absorbed.   
> My current question is: "What do you guys think of Erador?"   
> -still a douche  
> -eh... could be worse  
> -like him  
> -love him


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got my applications done, all sent off. The semester at my university is nearly done (tomorow) and then the mad rush of revision will begin.  
> Thanks for reading, a lot of love to the reviewers :)  
> As usual, please enjoy and comment if you want to.  
> I also wish to thank my Beta reader SarcasticallyDances for pointing out some errors!

It was cold. Scrunching up her nose Ayera nestled closer to something hard, but more importantly warm. _Familiar warmth_. She was so tired, if only she could just go back to sleep already. Her head was rising gently up and down; was Erador still asleep? Groggily opening her eyes, Ayera lifted her head up a little and looked into his sleeping face. No scowl or any expression at all. It was a pleasant change for once. At least he wasn’t snoring anymore.

There was a small breeze coming through the window next to the bed. A single strand of hair fell on top of Erador's nose causing it to wrinkle. A small smile tugged on her lips, he looked like no Thalmor agent at all, but just like a mer. She shifted slightly off his chest so he didn’t feel her right hand moving too much. Brushing the strand away, Ayera frowned. What was she doing? This was… she didn’t know anymore. Sighing she looked out. The sky was dark grey; probably early in the morning and just before sunrise. The sun was not directly in their view yet. It was still time to sleep. Sighing Ayera yawned and returned to her previous position, closing her eyes. She could get used to this.

Usually she almost never remembered her dreams, not that she was bothered. People were bothered enough about the ones they did remember. Like Heimskr, he had firmly believed he was Talos’ prophet. She wasn’t sure why he thought that, but she heard a rumour that Talos had apparently appeared in one of his “prophetic” dreams. Ridiculous, Ayera had snorted into her cup of mead when Hulda had regaled that tale to her.  Most of the citizens believed it, she believed in Talos, just not that he had chosen someone. Hypocritical at most, she was after all a favoured mortal by Akatosh. But Akatosh was the chief deity.

There was one dream, though, her only remaining memory of her life before. It oft kept her up at night when she woke up and couldn’t go to sleep. That one bright and warm moment with the sound of water, the sea crashing against something. It had faded. Before there had been some sensory feel to it, but that sensation was gone. Only sound and that bright warm room. Ayera dreamed it again until she slowly eased into consciousness.

Her nose was pressed on something hard. Was she? No… She felt like she was lying on her side; one of her arms felt like it was squashed. Ayera's head was angled oddly and lying on something round. She was stupid. She had been tugged close to him with her neck on his arm and face in his chest. When did they shift? More importantly, how could she have not felt it? Frowning Ayera opened her eyes and was greeted by the grey cloth of his cloak. She could see the weaving pattern clearly. A sigh. Was he awake? Before she could crane her neck to look up, the cloth shifted and his other arm dragged it over her shoulder. It stayed there.

Erador was asleep; his breathing was slow and steady. How could she get out without rousing him from sleep? Wiggling out was out of question; that would just jolt him awake with one false move. Or just not move? No, she was caged…

Well, he would let her go once he wakes up. But that would be just awkward. Waking up and having her in his arms. Probably dreaming about someone else. What's to say that he has a lover back home? He might be dreaming about her. Stop thinking and play asleep.

She might as well do that and get some dozing time before they would be inevitably be on the move again until late afternoon. Her belly ached at the thought. Food, they needed food. The rabbit she had caught had been left behind at Tristwyrs house, a shame really.

 Something in this shack would be spoilt as well. Maybe there were some berries around here they could stuff themselves with until they reached the Moorside Inn. But they were close to the marshes, berry bushes were rare. Stifling a groan she tried thinking of what else they could eat. Or they could just walk with an empty stomach until they found an inn. He would definitely gobble up a meal there in no time.

“I know you are awake” Ayera's eyes flew wide open. Erador had been awake this whole time? But… why hasn’t he moved away from her if he had known?

“Morning” she mumbled into his cloak while he removed his arm from underneath her. Another day of wandering to get to Morthal. What then? The Dragonborn was an elusive individual, she could be anywhere!

“We should get up” Erador yawned and looked at her expectantly. What was he trying to say?

“You know climbing over you is not necessary if you get up” what a jerk, but alright, she didn’t want to be close to him anyways. Who needed the closeness of other people?

They were walking almost immediately, no talk of food which she was grateful for. Ayera stepped out of the hut and into the cold morning.

It was a small forest, but a dense one. The underwood was thick, showing no sign of being disturbed. A scout could sneak through this, but the search would be still in its first stages. Ulfric' boys were probably looking in the tundra for them. After all, they had no idea where they went... For now.

They should have hidden the bandit’s corpses.

If they were found it would be pretty clear that it had been no troll nor surprised by wildlife. Imperial troops could be an offered explanation, but the scarring would only leave the conclusion of lightning’s use. The legion here didn’t have battle mages in their midst. Though the inclusion of battle mages might have tipped the scales in their favour if they could have found suitable candidates in Skyrim or from the army in Cyrodil.

The marshes weren’t far anymore. Once they stepped outside the line of the trees, the mossy and pungent smell of the marshes hit them right in the face. Ayera nearly recoiled in the intensity of the stench.

“There is a path” Erador was pointing somewhere forward. Squinting her eyes she tried to see the path he was pointing out.

“I don’t see it” He sighed but did not get too irritated.

“Suppose it is out of your view range.” There was no condescending superiority in his tone for once.

“Suppose” Ayera was still tired. Erador turned around to her when she yawned.

“You didn’t sleep well” it was a statement not a question. Frowning Ayera nodded. It could have been that she had just… she had more than enough sleep.

“Yes” It was the truth.

“I figured, woke up to you practically shaking and scowling in your sleep” She did? That was new. Biting her lip, Ayera glanced up at him. How was she supposed to answer this? Why was he smirking so smugly? By Sithis if he was going to use it to humiliate her then….

“You stopped when you moved closer to me.” Eh? What was that supposed to mean?

“What are you trying to make me say?”

“Me trying to make you say something? No, I want to understand why. This is not the first time.” Loreius farm, Silent Moons camp… the cart didn’t count. That had been a forced situation.  Oh Sithis. Too late did she feel her cheeks heat up. _Traitor!_ her mind screamed at her body. Erador's eyes softened in sympathy.

“Was it the dream you once told me about?”

“Yes”, Ayera said hesitently, not at all comfortable with this line of questioning. He remembered that? That had been before the mage. It felt like a lifetime ago...

“I… see.” He looked away and into the distance where he had pointed out the path. Where were they anyways? If they reached the settlement by noon then they would be in Morthal by the time it was dark. There was no time to waste.

Hopefully, they would reach Morthal by evening. If not, that meant they were lost and did not know where they were headed. And that meant they were vulnerable to ambushes; not a pleasant thought.

They marched in silence, though not that they didn’t want to. It was their stomachs that were protesting for the lack of food and the hastily chewed few leeks had not been enough. Their energy was sapped to the point of not wanting to waste it by talking.

By noon they saw some smoke trailing up behind a group of bare trees. A settlement! Maybe they could get some food or some news about what was or had happened. But food.... Her stomach growled at the idea. With new energy she hadn’t known had been there, they pressed onwards and through the trees into an opening. Five houses were nestled around a circular space in the middle. There lay the settlement! They had found the correct path again. Thank Auriel.

Where were the people? There was no one outside. Her senses started tickling with anticipation. Nocturnal, let this be no trap. No cleverly hidden trap, please Auriel. They stood in the middle of the place waiting for the trap to spring.

But it never came.

There was only an eerie silence. The smoke came from a house to her left, in front of Erador who had turned with his back to her. Maybe there were people somewhere? Her hair at the back of her neck stood on end. _Flee, don’t risk it. Don’t investigate_.

“Strange”, his presence beside her vanished. Was he daft enough to investigate? Whirling around, she made an instinctive grab for his cloak. They really shouldn’t go and look.

Too late, he had crossed the threshhold and was already standing on the porch. Her throat was constricted. No sound came out.

“You coming?” Ayera's legs didn’t move. No she wouldn’t. But she couldn’t leave him to any danger either.

Damn him. The wood on the porch showed no signs of sword clashes or burn marks. Erador walked over to the door. No signs of being broken into. It was even open. She looked at him. _Sithis, Auriel, please don’t open that door_.

Too late, the door creaked in its hinges as it was pushed open slowly by elven hands. Her own instinctively closed themselves around the hilt of her dagger. Whatever decided to attack them she would be prepared.

“Who are you and what do you want?” Her dagger was whipped out when the voice came from somewhere in the dark corners of the pitch black house. A hand clamped down on her shoulder. How could he know this was not dangerous? This could be a Stormcloak spy!

“We are travelers looking for a place to rest” Erador was soothing and calm, then-

“Ayera, sweety, no need to wave your dagger in their faces.” Looking more closely she saw the frightened expression on the man’s face. She lowered her blade slowly, they were just farmers. What a monster she was. Self loathing shaded her heart and made it ache.

“There is nothing here, traveler” The man's teeth was gritted but not hostile, but he still didn’t want them inside. They were strangers.

“What happened?” she inquired. A long pause; he was hesitating.

“You haven’t heard?” The farmer asked, bewildered. What should they have heard?

“No, is there something out there?”

“Come in”, the man stepped aside and let them in, then immediately shutting the door behind them. Torches were lit up suddenly and someone removed a curtain from a window. There were six more people in the room, all huddled on benches around a cooking pit in the middle. Her stomach clenched, this looked too much like Breezehome. They were ushered on one bench opposite of the men and women looking at them with wide eyes.

“So you haven’t heard about Whiterun?” they did, been there. Don’t tell though.

“No, we passed Whiterun, but they didn’t let us through” nodding gratefully to the woman who offered her a tankard of mead. It was a great feeling having something in her stomach for now. The people exchanged looks. She didn’t like that. What had they missed?

“After Whiterun, bandits started showing up near the borders advancing further into imperial allied holds.”

“Bandits?” The bounty letter in Erador’s pouch burned into her mind again. Ulfric had sent them to hunt her primarily she thought, but….

“Yes they come here and intimidate us extorting protection money”, the mead in her stomach got heavy. How sick was that.  
“Did you?” She didn’t want to hear it, but he just had to ask.

“Yes, but it wasn’t enough what we gave. They took most of our lads and we have been hiding ever since.”

Where were the corpses?

“Our…” The man was interrupted rudely by the woman next to him. Hard lines were etched into her face.

“No, spare your sympathy. The boys wanted adventure and they got that. Foolish running off to earn gold in the name of a King.” The word king was spat out and most expressions turned dark at the mention.

“But what do they do?” An elbow was rammed into her side and she spluttered some mead back into her cup. What in Oblivion? That hadn’t been necessary! Glowering at Erador he stared back equally hard. Why shouldn’t she have said that?

“They go around scaring the folk like us into hiding so we don’t get the stupid idea to help the legion.” So Ulfric had a brain after all. Who would have suggested that piece of strategy to him? The all honourable Nord who would crush everyone in honourable battle? How ironic.

“I see” was all she managed to say. What else could Ayera say? Say that they should deal with it? That would be heartless.

“How many were they?”

“We don’t know, the leader always came in company with two and always hinted at several others hidden waiting for his sign to attack” one thing was sure that bandit was clever. An inkling at the back of her mind came up. What if…?

“Was he tall, steel armor?” if he was the bandit in the mountain range, then the people would have no one to fear anymore. A sad shake of the head, Ayera should have known there were more.

“No, she is small but burly. An orc as well.” Damn, not the ones they had eliminated.

“When are they coming again?” the air thickened when all backs straightened out. Uneasy looks were exchanged.

“Soon, they never say.”

“Do you have enough money?”

“Yes we do.” She said pointedly. Somehow she doubted that when a flicker of fear had been evident for a split second on her face.

“Shall we stay?” surprised she turned around to Erador. Why would he offer their help? She shouldn’t be surprised really, he was not like the others.

“We…” the man was stuttering “are you sure?” Well if he said that then they would stay. Not that Ayera objected, but never would she have thought he would suggest such a thing. Then what were they supposed to do? Scare them into not coming back? Kill them? If that happened Ulfric would know about this sooner than later. He would make the connections. If that happened may Stendarr have mercy on them.

“Yes of course, what do you need us to do?” the familiar drawl had returned and she chuckled into her tankard. How to proceed?

“I don’t know, make them stop coming.” Easy request, not easily done. Where were they when they didn’t come here? Did they watch the village? So many factors which would alter any plan to deal with them.

“Do you know by chance where they are?” A collective head shaking was her sole answer. That complicated things. Maybe they would have to scout first and then ambush them, or infiltrate? When they came knocking again or pursue them? Also, if the encounter with the other bandits had been any indication then they would have her picture as well. She couldn’t really show her face either. For Auriel’s sake nothing was ever easy!

“What we do know though is that they come from the East” East… They came most likely from the Pale or Whiterun hold edges. Not much either other than if they were to flee it would be west wards.

“I think you should proceed as always and then we will ambush them”, Erador said after a long moment of silence with them staring in their tankards.

“You make it sound so easy” the man, who seemed to be the leader, replied. It kind of did with no plan behind it.

“Of course it sounds easy because it is the simplest way of putting it” he bit back and set his tankard down on the bench.

“How many come into the village itself?”

“Three, the leader flanked by two.”

“Alright, and you know nothing of any archers.” Sighing Erador turned to her.

“You could lie hidden until we spring them, we might need someone who can take out an archer or keep the others at bay.” She frowned. There was something not sitting right with her, just what? What had they overseen or were not thinking of?

“That is over simplified.”

“Oh and your plans were any better?” He remembered that one. By Auriel, she had no more arguments against his plan now. All will go to Oblivion, she just knew it. Grinding her teeth she conceded, for now.

“And us?”

“You just stay put”, Erador looked to her for a moment before returning his attention to the man.

“When do they come again?”

Two women lowered their glances,

“They come when they want, so every moment really.” Her hair stood on end now. Now? To Sithis with everything. No time to plan, to properly think about this. Hopefully they had some moments. She looked to Erador, he sat straight and she could see his tensed posture from here. Good thing he doesn’t like this either.

“Who speaks to them?”

“Me” the leader said again.

“Alright, you act casual and we will hide…” a loud bang interrupted them. All of them looked fearfully at the door. Her stomach sank. Sithis, couldn’t they at least have waited? There goes the plan of her picking off any snipers.

“Here they are” it was a morbidly calm statement from the man who had let them in. Ayera couldn’t move, her gaze was transfixed on the door.

The light flooding in nearly blinded her at first. She had forgotten it was still in the middle of the day. Why did they come in the middle of the day? Get drunk in the evening? If they did then it would be easy. Come in and walk out in matters of maybe a short while.

“Money now!” was the gruff request. Stocky stature  with a wide stance. Brawler with a lot of confidence.

“We don’t have any” she slipped her hand to her sheathed dagger waiting for everything to go to Oblivion any moment. He had lied about having enough money. Surely they would have chipped in as well if they had just asked!

“How hilarious” she swallowed, “now, you know what that means.” The women huddled closer together, what was going on?

“Get the girls and then move out, we’ll see whether they have enough money after a night”, everything went cold in her. She won’t be a prisoner again. Never again, they were in the services of Ulfric. If they recognized her, she would be as good as dead. More figures filled the door way, there were more than three. Had they known there would be no money left for the poor people here? This was sickening.

“No, the girls stay here”, when had he moved to the man’s side. Erador had built himself up in front of the orc and stared down on her. Scrambling from the bench she hurried over to his side. If he started a fight, she needed to help.

The orc started snickering, “We have an elf thinking he can best us” boisterous laughter followed. Not good, they weren’t backing down. A hand clamped down on her forearm. What now? She turned her head to see a woman putting a finger against her lips. What was going on? Frowning she settled back down and saw how the rest had retreated into a dark corner. Were they escaping? How clever, the men blocked the view while they fled. Smiling gratefully she followed the kind woman to the corner. She had to be careful; her armor creaked at certain junctions. Where did this lead to?

The woman pulled her to a wardrobe. Was there a wing mechanism… Oh, she was pulled around the side and behind it. Her eyes needed to adjust for a moment before she saw the ladder going down into the ground. Might as well, looked like the plan was distracting the bandits and get the women to safety. Her throat tightened up, they had thought to get her as well. Somehow they had disregarded the initial plan of involving her and got her out as well.

Hastily climbing down she was met with pure darkness. Hesitating shortly she squinted into the darkness. Where were the others? Out of the darkness a hand grabbed Ayera's and gently pulled her forward. They didn’t light any torches so she just stumbling blindly through the darkness only with a hand on hers keeping her from panicking. The sound of boots hitting the ground and gasping breaths was the only thing keeping her in Nirn.

What if this was an elaborate trap by Ulfric to catch her? She involuntarily froze at the mention, stopping in her tracks. Sithis don’t think like that. The hand yanked her forcefully. No, is this a trap? Her feet didn’t move. Another yank, this time more impatient. Move. These are people fleeing from being captured and she was blocking it. Sithis, she was unworthy. This time her feet moved. If she had delayed them and… then, no don’t think about that. Focus on moving, where she was going. Where ever they were fleeing to.

Erador, she had left him to deal with this all. What would he think when he would look for her? That she had fled him while she had had the chance? No she had many opportunities and still hadn’t. But what would he think? She hadn’t thought at all.

“There is a hide out just ahead, we usually flee to it when they come” a voice come from in front of her. Was it the one dragging her? Were the others with them?

“I see” she managed out in the end. It was still too dark.

“We will stay there for the day until someone comes to get us” another one somewhere to her right said.

She didn’t notice when they stopped and walked straight into her guide.

“I am…”

“Spare the breath, no harm done” she could hear the cracked smile. But why did they stop?

“Don’t be surprised but shield your eyes”, her eyes? It took her a moment until she slapped a hand on her eyes. Just in time before she would have been temporarily blinded by the sudden sunlight. It was disorientating to say the least.

“It isn’t far from here now” too cheerful, they weren’t out of danger yet. Out of danger without him and… her gut began twisting. She shouldn’t have fled with them. Carefully prying off her fingers one by one her eyes adjusted to the new surroundings. There were a lot of trees. Hang on, where were they? Definitely not in the swamps, but where?

“We are out of the swamp now, it is a small one, but not many know of it” That was for sure. Well they were still close to the border to Whiterun hold so it wasn’t impossible really to find such dense tree groups.

Four women walked out behind her. It was a small opening if viewed from outside, she wouldn’t have looked at it if she had walked past it without knowing it was there.

“Found them!” Her back hair stood on end as she whirled around. There was a man sitting on a tree branch holding a sword. Sithis they had been discovered. Footfalls were heard in the thick undergrowth. Looked like they had to fight. No, the women. She turned her head towards the women behind her. All of them frozen in fear. They couldn’t make it to the hideout in time. A distraction or… she would stay behind and fight. Like she should have done for Whiterun. Her throat constricted, she should have done that and fled. Now she would not flee, she will stand her ground.

A scream and they all set into motion. Good, now she only had to delay the bandits long enough. Facing forward again she drew her dagger out of its sheath. Her magicka surged at her initiation of a lightning spell. Let them come, she will be there to meet them. A smirk came and Ayera charged forward. The bandit had no time to react when her dagger drove into his face. No scream, he went down like a wet sack. An outraged cry from her left forced her to shift her focus on the greatsword wielding man. Ayera stopped in her tracks. There were five others running as well

“Get her, bind her!” Bind her? No chance in Oblivion! Before Ayera could lift her dagger again, something blunt hit her painfully in her head. Stumbling over she fell on her knees. Another hit, she went sprawling on the ground with her. The back of her head felt like it was set on fire. A black ring started to form around her vision. Sithis, if she had known….

 _For the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in fear and blood._ What a fitting end.

Her head was splitting when she regained some clouded consciousness again. What was going on? It was cold, so cold. Wind hitting her arms, legs, fingers, everywhere. Try moving a finger? Her head nearly exploded at this, bad idea. If that was her fate, then so be it. Fitting end for a failure such as her. At least she had managed to at least buy the others some time One thing she had done right. Why couldn’t she have done the same for Saadia? Whiterun fell and she hadn’t done enough to protect the innocent.

She shouldn’t be alive; her only companion failure. Her friends were either dead or, she swallowed, hated her for what she hasn’t done. Might as well sleep until she met Sithis in the Void. What a disgrace she must be, worthless. The cold could take her, not that she would care. As long as she was no longer a disappointment.

 

 

 

With a wet sound his sword slid out of the bandit’s chest. His eyes wide, staring into the sky unbelievingly. Two were dead, the leader had fled, pushing them into his way. Damn, if he had gotten her as well, then the bandits would have been leaderless. Now they had only pissed them off. There were more that was for sure. They would come back. Sighing he looked around, the bodies were sprawled on the porch. A short but merciless fight. It was almost like they had been bait. Orcs weren’t the ones for running from a fight. A bad feeling was settling in his stomach. Where were the girls? They needed to go into hiding as quickly as possible when the remnants came looking for blood.

Should Ayera go with them? Ridiculous, she was a capable fighter. But… she was a woman, they were looking for them specifically. He just couldn’t keep his eyes on her all the time. And in the fight keeping her beside him was near impossible. Her fighting style was far too… how to describe, not bound to a place but she was all over it at once. One time there then over there. No way he could be with her all times, he was more rooted to a place. Where was she?

“We thank you stranger”, the leader of the villagers had walked up next to him looking on the corpses. He tried to see any emotion on the man’s face. None.

“Where are the women?” he had to ask. Ayera was more likely with them.

“Hideout, we will send someone at once to retrieve them.” He nodded, hopefully she was there with them.

Turning around he walked back into the room and was greeted with grateful faces. They ushered him on a bench and pressed a new tankard into his hand. He didn’t need more mead, all he needed was a plan for their next move. Bandits had nothing to lose. If he just knew where their hideout was. The leader must have left traces to follow.

Waiting for the women was useless. If the rest of the bandits came back they would be unprepared here, defenseless.

Just when was too late? One hut in the whole village occupied was a mistake. One strike and all of them could be dead. How did he manage to get from one simple mission to walking into an occupied city, break out with a crown, necromancer and now bandits? Pinching the bridge of his nose, Erador tried to think. All he could think of was they needed to move, get everyone out of here, and then rethink. Infiltrate the camp and eliminate them one by one? Possible, but immensely difficult. Ayera was more suited for this. Bow and dagger; perfect infiltration set up.

“They should be back any moment now” he hadn’t realized they had been waiting for longer than he thought.

“Where did they go?”

“We have a secret tunnel leading to a hideout”

“Since when do you have a hideout?”

“It is not the first time we had bandits who use the advantage of crossing hold borders” he would have to ask Ayera about that hold advantage.

“They are here!” his head snapped up to where the yell came from. One by one the women filled the room, some clinging to each other. Where was Ayera? His stomach churned. Where was she? Her face was not among the women. If he found her she would be in for a ranting. Wasting their time on such things. One stepped forward and the farmer's brown eyes softened. He knew this expression. Oh no, he didn’t want to hear this.

“No not like that” had he shown fear? How pathetic. That woman was messing with him. Once the Dragonborn was found he would never have to deal with her again. Though in the back of his mind he knew that was a lie.

“She stayed behind to buy us time” his throat closed up, he couldn’t speak, “I only saw her getting bashed to the ground” she stopped, he could see her fighting with tears. Was she…? Breathe, focus.

“She didn’t move anymore” no…” “but they bound her and left.” That was… not good. Well, good for the villagers. They were out of their focus now, but… Ayera, why did she always have to find trouble? “Where?”

He was met with confused glances, “Where what?”

“Where was she beaten down?”

The woman looked to the ground, “I can show where. Follow me.” With that she turned around and walked back behind that wardrobe. That was where they had gone. A ladder lead down into complete darkness.

“Just through here?” The woman nodded while someone handed her a torch, having lit it in the fire in the cooking pit. He watched her climbing down impatiently. Any moment longer and Ayera’s chances were growing slimmer. Hurry up, woman! Finally she was down and he practically jumped down.

“Someone is eager” that comment made him snarl in the darkness, who did they think he was? A monster?

“She is my wife” sometimes it really felt like they were with all their bickering.

“Oh, a Breton and an Elf?” there was slight undertone of disgust, subtle but it was there. Enough to make him wish he could strangle her. Inferior Nords, Bretons were the descendants of elves.

“A problem?” He gave her a withering stare. It was almost amusing how she shrank away and motioned for him along the tunnel. Good, she should have stayed her tongue. They walked through endless turns and up and downs. It felt like an eternity and he wanted to scream out in frustration.

“Go faster”, it was rough but it had the intended effect, she jumped and looked up to him with wide and terrified eyes. By Auriel’s sake, did he stutter? Lightning cackled in his left hand, “I said move faster, the longer we wait she will be dead.” She swallowed and looked at the lightning in his hands.

“You wouldn’t” it was a weak and pathetic try. Nearly he smirked.

“I would, I am a Thalmor agent. Of course I’ll dare” he snarled, she paled. For once someone was paler than Ayera was. Though the woman here looked ugly with it. Why weren’t they moving? The bolt swished past her ear making her shriek and finally she moved, well ran. Finally they were moving again.

The end of the tunnel led to a small clearing surrounded by pine trees. Perfect spot for an ambush.

“We were ambushed here” her voice was wavering and her eyes were flitting all over the clearing. She clearly didn’t want to be here. Not the gracious savior anymore? Helping them out would have to wait until he had Ayera back. If they wanted his help after that, a scowl formed on his face. If they didn’t then that was not his problem anymore. Pride can do wonders on someone’s fall.

Looking around the clearing he tried to find signs of a struggle or fight in the grass and trees. There was a small indent in the grass. Kneeling down he frowned. This was about the size of her, so she must have been knocked flat, went sprawling. Then there were drag marks leading north from the indent. So she had been dragged. He would have to heal bruises once he found her again. What else he would have to heal, he didn’t want to imagine. Either way they would pay.

“Can I go?” he only waved her away. She would only get in the way anyways.

The thick undergrowth was broken where he assumed bandits had broken through and dragged her through it. Broken twigs and indents in the grass showed him the way through the small forest.

Then suddenly he saw the camp. A cave with what he could only describe as primitive wooden walls around it. Sinking behind the tree he observed the tiny figures walking around, oblivious to him staring at them, calculating. Where was Ayera? He couldn’t see a cage or, he swallowed, a spike with her head on it. If he found she was injured then Oblivion have mercy on them.

Just how to proceed? He couldn’t really barge into the camp and hope to stand a fair chance in combat. Especially since it was still day and they were probably awaiting retaliation. At night he would blend it with the darkness, his ebony armor made certain of that. He would have to go up close and murder them to get to Ayera. Might as well kill them all; get the villagers some space to breathe. _If_ he was allowed back, he shouldn’t have told her he was a Thalmor.

People were distrustful at best towards elves and Thalmor were often met with open hostility. The woman would have told the other men about him now. Once he had Ayera, what should he do? What if she was injured? Erador had only a very crude and basic grasp of restoration magic. Bruises were alright, cuts as well, but anything broken would have to be treated by her. But what if Ayera was unconscious?  Or if a wound was infected? It was all out of his capabilities. Looks like he had to wait until evening, which he hoped would be soon. It had been well past noon when they had arrived at the village and with the attack, they were surely close to sunset.

He hated waiting, there was no sign of Ayera and time went by so slowly. His hand was itching towards his sword, itching to be able to just storm in and get her out of there. By Auriel, if one of them laid a hand on her… the Nord in Whiterun had been enough to nearly break her. She had been huddled at his side for a long while, shivering. Then she had murdered that woman, Ulfric’s wife, he didn’t know their relationship, but she was changed. He couldn’t put his fingers on it, just something changed. Infuriating Breton.

Night fell not early enough for his tastes. Long shadows fell first, then the light grew more orange. A spectacular view under any circumstances. Hopefully he could enjoy it for once. No occupied cities, no necromancers nor any bandits. They had one occasion so far, but he had been just tired.

Darkness came quickly and with it a biting cold. Ayera, please have a blanket or at least her armor still on. By Auriel, how did anyone survive in this cold? Loud raucous laughter reached his ears. Were they drinking themselves into a stupor? Carefully, he twisted around the tree and looked down on the camp. A big fire in the middle threw long shadows of the bandits sitting around it. All of them distracted, drinking. Good, once they were out sleeping he could sneak in and kill them off as quickly as possible. Magic or sword? Chain lightning spell might do wonders, but it was noisy. It could only be used once, then they would be aware of him. He needed to eliminate as many as quickly as possible.

It took an eternity for every single one of them to finally fall asleep. Silence, blessed silence. Carefully he slipped out from behind the tree and crawled slowly over to the wooden wall separating him to the men snoring around the camp. Sometimes he wished he had trained more with the bows. Certainly more useful with silent assassinations. Gripping his sword tighter he considered his options. Slitting the bandit's throat would ensure a quick and soundless death, who would be next? A woman lay on her back sprawled on her sleeping roll. Her throat was covered by an arm. He would have to send a powerful shock through her body to eliminate her. All the while he would have to stay in the shadows, thankfully it was still dark due to the low fire.

Slowly he crept towards the first one softly snoring. Too bad it would be his last. The sword slid easily through his throat, ending his life before the poor sod probably felt it. In all his life he despised those covert missions his superiors sometimes sent those special trained soldiers to. One should meet the enemy head on, no foul tricks and games around their back. The scar on his forearm began to itch. He was just like them now, his stomach clenched at that thought.

No, Ayera needed his help now and he would be damned if he didn’t give it his best. The female had still her arm around her throat. If he directed the shock bolt directly above her heart she wouldn’t even feel it. Crawling slowly over to her. She shifted and he froze up. There was a shield next to her, good. Then she went slack again, he released a held breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Still that arm was draped over her throat. Sparks were flying again, the crackle too loud for his liking. This had to go fast or they would wake up. Plunging his hand on top of her chest the blue sparks immediately made her spasm, eyes were ripped open and her mouth opened. He waited for the scream.

It didn’t come. Hanging open in her last final moment she lied there motionlessly. Then,

“Ef…” some groggy bandits muttered and turned around. Shit, if he saw him and the corpse he would sound the alarm. But he was too far away to intervene!

“Intruder!” Damn it! Erador made a grab for the shield that had been lying near. Leather: not the best material but it would have to do. A bandit to his left struggled to stand, but he never made it. Erador swiftly tore his sword through his chest.

The bandits were all up; four of them trying to circle him. If they were to succeed then he would be dead; so very very dead. Gripping the shield tighter he assessed the half sleepy, stumbling bandits. Their skills were sloppy at most, though drunk people were not predictable. Some even argued that this was the most dangerous part of it. A drunk had sometimes the uncanniest luck. A male with a sword was the first one to charge. He was able to block the sword, shoving it aside. The man stumbled to the side, wide open for Erador’s sword plunging into his neck. Blood flew everywhere. A scream escaped the man before he slumped to the ground. If the whole camp hadn’t been awake by now they would be by now. Fantastic.

At this moment he wished he had Ayera dashing around keeping the enemies lines thinned out for him. But Erador would be no Thalmor agent if he couldn’t keep three of them busy.

 How elementary, almost laughable. He would have to kill those first and then wait for others to emerge. Bandits often attacked in large groups, but organised was another story.

The remaining three advanced further. He couldn’t see their faces, shadowed from the fire’s light. Not that it mattered. They were waiting and he knew that. He was fighting against an experienced group who knew how to cooperate with each other. As if this couldn’t get any better. If he could only see the weakest link in the chain. One who wavered, uncontrolled strokes.

That link never showed. Blood was hammering in his temples, a small opening. It was all he would need. They hammered on him with all might and perfectly timed. All he could do was lifting his shield and block with his sword. His attacks only met empty air. His sword stabbed into emptiness. Bashing his shield did nothing. Damn it, he should have been able to defeat them by now. Think for Auriel’s sake and for Ayera's sake.

The one with the shield shuffled backwards, why would he…? Instinctively he launched himself forward, driving his boot into the bandit’s shield. With a yelp the bandit fell down on his back, leaving him visibly winded. Whirling around to his left, Erador saw one with a greatsword raised charging forward with the sword raised high above his head. He gripped his own sword tighter and swung for the man’s arm.

A scream tore through the night, blood was flying everywhere when the man fell down holding the remaining parts of his arm. He’d die soon, blood loss would set him off to unconsciousness then certain death. Nothing more he would have to do. The other two stood there frozen in shock at their fallen comrade.

“No!” the one with only a sword exclaimed and raised his empty arm. Erador fought down the urge to laugh. Pitiful, an empty hand against him? He saw the blue glow too late. Until a wall of pure frost flew over to him.

That little outlaw had magic at his disposal, how convenient. It put him on distance, that was for sure, but then again, so with the other. Letting himself fall to his side and rolling away he came up close to the other one who had his shield raised and swung immediately after him. Erador ducked, the sword whistling over his head mere inches from his hair.

Another blue icy front sped towards him again, from the side. For Auriel’s… he dashed away from the spell’s path. That spell casting barbarian kept him at distance. He frowned, what could he do? Exhausting him out of his magical capabilities was too long, Ayera could be dying somewhere. But what was the answer?

Lightning:

the familiar spell crackling through him, he dropped the shield in favour of sparks flying from his left hand. It was quick, sparks arched through the crips night air and impacted on the magic wielding low life. Skin blistered and with a pathetic whimper the body slumped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. With a final spasm he was dead.

 

Suddenly he was driven backwards, the remaining bandit having finally caught up to him. With a yell his sword sliced through the air down on his head. Turning to his side quickly, the blade rammed into the hard ground, dirt went flying.

“Just die!” The bandit raged, spittle flying as he delivered another slash and struck earth; missing entirely. Scrambling up Erador stepped backwards, avoiding the senseless slashes. There was no thought put behind them, desperation fueling the force of the swings. Now he had to wait, there would be a mistake soon.

The mistake came, with a swing too forceful, leaving the bandit winded. Erador’s sword pierced his heart. Eyes wide and limps failing, the bandits crumbled to the ground to his fallen comrades one who was whimpering holding the stump tightly. He would not have long, no need to stretch it out. His sword flashed up shortly, driving through the heart and with a final whimper the man died.

He took a deep breath, looking around. The only sound was the cracking of the fire, the occasional breaking of a log. Nothing else, the noises of the night were drowned out in this primitive camp. No noise except the fire.

Not good, where could they hold her? Plus where was the leader he had chased off earlier? A quick one for certain. He would have thought she would jump into the fight and not leave the others to fight. Even as poorly as they did, it would have intimidated the peasants.... But not a Thalmor agent.

He lifted his left hand again, the purple glow of the detect life appearing in his palm. One could never be too sure. Ambushes and hastily set up traps were common. There was one small purple dot not too far away. Ayera? Possibly. Though one last surviving bandit waiting for him? Where would Ayera be then? Taken away…or killed? His throat constricted, no, she couldn’t be. After all without her he would have failed his mission.

Damn, he couldn’t see in the darkness. A magelight was easily summoned, blue light illuminating a small circle of earth while he walked forward. At least he knew where he was stepping. Filthy lot. There was a boulder in front of him, the purple dot had been in behind it. Willing the blue light up, he inspected the boulder. Surely there would be a way around somewhere. Or a door. Right was rocky wall, nothing there. Left, the wall disappeared into the darkness. Frowning he called the light back and thrust his palm forward. Looked like there was a bent there. Readying his sword, holding it in front of him ready to slash he approached the end of the boulder slowly. If the sign of life he had seen been a bandit looking for his hide then he would have moved there by now. A quick cast of the detect life spell would show him that.

Frowning he looked again. The life sign was still in its original spot, hasn’t even moved an inch in fact. That could only mean that the person was sleeping. Ridiculous, the fight he had had was loud enough to wake his mother. He chuckled slightly. That woman was impossible to wake unless someone crashed or broke something. But no response to gentle nudging. His smile dimmed, Ayera was out there. The woman had said she had been knocked down. Probably unconscious as well.

His summoned light rounded the corner with him. A cage was there, the black bars throwing a long shadow on its floor. There was nothing … no, there was something huddled up at the back of it. He hurried over to see inside the cage, his summoned light floating gently inside. A small figure, woman by shape, huddled in the back. Black hair, Ayera! She was shivering in that thin shift that hung on her.

“Ayera?” he called out. Erador held his breath. No movement, his heart sank. Ayera was still alive, he knew that. Unconscious? Where was the lock? His hands fumbled in the dark, until he found finally found the lock. The door didn’t budge when Erador pushed against it. Of course it was locked. Otherwise she would have escaped already. Right? His gut was twisting at the sight of her. Something wasn’t right. Remember the lessons on breaking free. What was it again? He had no lock picks… hang on he did. She had given him some in Whiterun. It all seemed so easy when she did it. In his training it was all so hard. Getting the lock pick to be just in the right position. He had always failed. What else? Someone told him that freezing the metal would enable him to smash it. But people could spin tales when they were deep in their cups of mead. Might as well try, nothing else he could do. That would mean… no, no time for this. Focus.

Taking a deep breath he lifted both his hands and concentrated a blast of pure frost on the lock. The metal began to slowly creak, not enough for his taste. It had to shatter, when was the point when he could do it? He had no idea, but it didn’t matter. At one point it will do, he hoped, Ayera needed to get out of here. Somewhere warm as well. Where was her armor? If he could get her back to the village then… would they let them back inside? After all he had threatened one of the women. He felt the urge to bang his head against the bars for his short sightedness. What had he been thinking? He dropped the spell, inspecting the lock again. Not that he could see anything different. Except it was cold to the touch. Could he smash it now? Frowning he stared at the black metal contraption. Sometimes he wished he could tear through metal like some of his colleagues.

Why couldn’t he just break the damn thing? He could try… after all he had blasted it with some ice. If the tale was true and not another drunk tale spinning of those lunatics. He cracked a smile. Those two; he wondered if he would ever see them again. If Ayera would finally tell him about the Dragonborn. Might take a while….

Oh to Oblivion with this all. His sword flashed up and connected with the metal of the lock with a loud crack. Did it work? Erador leaned forward, looking at the lock. A notch was there, just not broken like he had hoped it would be. Could it be done without wasting energy on ice spells? He looked over to the huddled form of Ayera. Still no movement.

It was as if a stone was dropped into his stomach and did somersaults in it. She surely would have heard him if she was conscious, but in this cold… people didn’t tend to survive it, let alone Bretons. Though did Bretons sometimes have white hair?

He would have to slash the lock again. With a loud clang the metal ground underneath his blade, the notch was deeper, longer as well. Progress, if slow, but still progress.

It took four more tries and some frustrated ice spells hurled against the metal until it snapped. Flying to the ground with a thud. Not that he noticed. All Erador could see was her small form; shivering as well.

He scrambled into the cage to her. Usually she’d tense up when he touched her, an annoying habit really. One closer look by the guards or anyone and their disguise would have been blown. He kneeled before her.

Eyes closed, huddled tightly into herself. Erador bit his lower lip and shuffled over to her cautiously. Maybe she was merely sleeping and would shoot up at the slightest touch. One could never be sure, especially around her after Whiterun. Slowly he touched her forearm and paused. She didn’t move, not even tensing up. Not good.

He grasped the arm tighter and turned her around. Her head rolled on its side, unconscious or dead? Please don’t be dead. A small mist formed over her mouth now he could see. Still breathing, good. Nothing else was good though. Unconscious in this cold for one. He would need to get her armor and cloak back. Then what? Dress her in her armor while she is in no control of her limbs? Brilliant plan….

Could he leave her in the cage though? After all she needed warmth more than anything. He could shed his cloak for a while until he found her armor and weapons. Not like he would be freezing without his cloak. Well, if he hurried up and cast a few flame spells. He removed his hand to open the broach of his cloak. It would give her some warmth back and keep it there until he got back.

The cloak nearly swallowed her up whole. So small she was all huddled up. Hesitating he looked at her face. All tension gone, he reached out for her forehead. His fingers touched cold and smooth skin. No fever, good so far. It tingled to touch her for too long, something he didn’t want to feel. Too confusing, too distracting. The mission was important and that meant simply her getting to say it. Somehow though….

Getting up was not easy, somehow he was glued to the place watching her. Nothing changed, but he worried. What if she got worse while he was searching for the armor in the dark? They couldn’t stay here however. He hadn’t seen the leader and she might come back later. If he stayed in the cage or slept then he would be trapped as well. No other choice, just … he didn’t like it.

Hurriedly he got up, glancing one more time to her, and then stepped out into the night air. Sobering, he then cleared his thoughts from the worrying temporarily. He had her things to find after all.

 

Ayera's fingers were painfully stiff. Toes too. At least it wasn’t windy anymore…. Had she fallen asleep? Why was she lying on her back? Must have fallen asleep then. That had been dangerous…. Sithis her head was… it felt like there was stone lying on it. Probably best if she didn’t open her eyes for now. Any light would worsen it.

Was it night time? The raucous laughter before she had fallen asleep was completely gone now. Maybe just maybe she would survive until morning. Would be nice to see the dawn in Skyrim one more time. If she could only get herself curled tighter, then it could mean more warmth until the end of the night. Something shifted over her when she moved her arm closer to her torso. Frowning instinctively she moved her fingers to the something. Soft, pliable… cloth.

Wait. Someone had been in her cage, covering her. Had they done something else?  Her chest constricted and she tried curling herself tighter. Not possible, her back began to strain with her attempt. _Please Divines_ , her path of repenting was nearly at an end. Why prolong it with a blanket? Just… there is no sense keeping her alive.

“Ayera.” It was a soft nudge at the edge of her mind. _Go away, let her be_. She squeezed her eyes tighter. But the voice, it sounded familiar. A hand touched her shoulder gingerly, as if she were to break otherwise. She felt nothing at the touch, should she though? It felt like there should be a reaction, an echo of tingling spreading from her shoulder. No, she didn’t want to feel. Divines, why torment her further? Worthless and pathetic she was. This time she was nudged physically on the shoulder. Hard.

“Leave me” her voice was small, a mere whisper, hollow. The nudging stopped, the hand stayed. She wasn’t sure whether to be happy or sad about that. This all was too confusing. Her chest felt lighter that it stayed, but her heart fell when it stayed.

“Ayera?” she knew now who. Erador. Of all people she would have thought he’d abandon her. Thalmor did not associate with the weak and pathetic after all. If she would just ignore him he would let her be. He had to.  After all no one had ever really cared. She could sense him shifting above her. Whether it was to move away or close she didn’t know and she couldn’t decide what would be worse. Him staying or leaving. He will leave, like the others. The hand stayed and her chest constricted. Then an arm wound around her neck and lifted her upper body up. Scrunching up her nose she squeezed her eyes tighter. If she kept them closed he would go away. Surely….

The divines had a way of proving her wrong. He didn’t go away, instead her head was nestled into something hard and her cheek was pressing into something hard and cool. What was he doing? Cold air hit her back and was gone as she felt cloth touching her back. He was determined to not let her freeze, interesting. Out of all people, a Thalmor was one of the last persons she would imagine who’d help her. This was too confusing. After all he didn’t really need her to find the Dragonborn.

“Why would you want me to leave?” It sounded genuine, surprised. A quiet whisper of shock. Fingers brushed her cheeks up to her forehead, lingered then retreated. Somehow she didn’t want them to go. No attachment, why would he stay?  But… what could she say that question? Wasn’t it obvious?

A sigh, her upper body was shifted upwards. Frowning she fought the temptation to open her eyes to see what he was doing. However, it would be harder to let go for her if she did.

“Is this because… of Saadia?” She couldn’t stop herself flinching and she hated herself for it. No emotion. Now he knew, just what can he do? Saadia could not be resurrected. Silence, she heard him exhaling long and loudly. He was thinking what to say. All lies.

“I…” he paused, she only waited trying to block out the lie he would tell eventually, “know that is not the sole reason.” Her eyebrow creased, of all things she had not expected him to query further. Words got stuck in her throat as she suppressed the want to answer. This was too uncomfortably close to home. Even if she had willed to reply, what could she have said? The truth was out of question. Just which truth? Surely he didn’t know. He couldn’t. Right? If he did, then he would tell her, demand lividly that she tell the truth. His anger was terrifying.

The pause was getting too heavy for her, not even shifting felt like it would help. He sighed.

“The executions, you looked murderous. One of the reasons we were approached”, she had? Maybe they could have avoided it all if she hadn’t. Pathetic.

“I am not accusing you” he added quickly, squeezing her shoulder slightly. Her mouth still couldn’t open.

“We both fought a losing battle for your home and I had an inkling you would be on edge. Then you collapsed after you came back from your house”, her muscles tensed up. It was the Dragonborn’s house. Not hers, she was only allowed to stay in it as a token of their friendship.

“Saadia had been your friend and more things went downhill, the execution, the man assaulting you, and that woman. The wife of Ulfric. She had been your friend too, right.” No she hadn’t been. Ysolda had been friendly to her, but they never bonded. They were too different, Ysolda a merchant and her, she was a fighter. She had only been surprised when she learned of Ysolda supplying the caravans with Sleeping tree sap. But that had been all. Her throat was still closed up. Pressure was building behind her eyes. No tears, divines, not now.

“With the necromancer I knew then you were afraid you would fail again”, fingers were on her cheek, slowly going upwards. Her skin got goosebumps and tingled when they moved. He was right, she was afraid of failure. She failed those times it had mattered for her home. No wonder Saadia wanted to kill her, she should have let her. After all she had been the Thane, obliged to give her life for the jarl.

Why did he even care? A Thalmor caring for his prisoner? Utterly ridiculous. This time her voice obeyed her will, albeit scratchy and wavering. She hated herself for it.

“It would be better if I am just left here.” It was out now, a strange feeling settled in her stomach. The one she got when she was lying to herself and those she didn’t want to lie to. His grip tightened while silence stretched out. If he got angry then he would leave her to her misery and not look back once. Now though, she didn’t want him to leave.

“Don’t say that”, Erador whispered with a cold undertone. A subtle sign he was about to yell, snap and attack something.

“You don’t care” she bit her tongue a moment too late, it was out. Something she rather not had wanted to fling at him to chew on. Of course he didn’t care, silly Halfling. He was going to drop her, she had expected that to happen. All Thalmor pride, he could never ever care for someone who was obviously not an elf. One simple movement and she would be separate from him. However, she hadn’t expected him wounding an arm around her waist lifting her up into an embrace. Clinging to her like she would fall apart any moment.

“But I do”, was whispered quietly, his voice low as warm breath brushed against her hair.

 She froze. What? The words kept on repeating in her mind. Had she heard it right? He cared? Oh no, divines. This was just bad, even worse. It would be all easier if he didn’t. Why couldn’t he just be the typical Thalmor? Not caring about anyone, only focused on mission no matter the cost?

Wait. Maybe he was just doing that. Manipulating her to stand up again, guide him to her friend. Then? Kill her most likely. What had she even expected? Someone who would not use her and spit her out again? How naïve, utterly stupid and truly pathetic to think that. Though, she just couldn’t imagine him not caring or as a typical Justiciar anymore. He would not betray her. She had thought the same way of Mercer and Astrid. Until the day of a sword in her stomach in a sanctum with decay in her nose and when a smug commander revealed the deal to her on those high towers above Solitude. They all died in the end, one in a bout of insane laughter and the other by her blade. If he betrayed her, she would kill him. _Could she do it_? The mere thought of killing him made her stomach turn and nose scrunch up.

“Talk to me, please”, now it sounded desperate. It sounded genuine even if it wasn’t. She should say something. Just what? Her throat was all closed up and the pressure behind her eyes was still there. If she spoke, she would start crying. Fingers were on her cheek again, the touch was warm and strangely soothing. Her eyes opened against her will. She should have snapped them shut again. However, she didn’t. Blinking slowly with blue light piercing her eyes, she groaned when her headache spiked for a brief moment. The fingers on her cheek moved slightly, up and down. Then they retreated and she couldn’t help but look after them longingly as they disappeared. Turning her head she saw bars and a hay pile. Bars? They were still in the cage. Had he…? All for her? For someone so unworthy? Her eyebrows knitted together. This didn’t make sense. Slowly and gently she turned her head towards him. The light, a magelight from the soft blue glow, threw shadows on his features.

But she could see the tight lips, wide eyes and the wrinkled eyebrows as if it was daylight. It didn’t suit him, her fingers itched to smooth it out, but they didn’t move. Would be strange if she did. Silence was heavy on them, on her chest. What could she say? That he was right? No, he couldn’t know. So she just stared at him, her eyes hopefully imploring him not to press the issue. _Not now. Not ever_. 

He sighed, his shoulders slumped.

“Alright. I will get you somewhere warm.” Warmth. Such a strange concept now to her. Involuntarily the corners of her mouth tugged upwards to a small smile. Why was she smiling?

“I am glad you are alive” her smile got wider when he said it. Her chest feeling lighter, the stone on her head lifted for a moment. A smile he returned. All crooked, one corner higher than the other. But she preferred it that way.

His arm underneath her head shifted, causing a yelp from her, destroying the moment. Somehow she wanted to hit him on the head. How dare he? Her head fell downwards, his arm underneath her neck and another underneath her knees. He was carrying her.

“The village isn’t far” he shifted her a bit, moving her up, leaving her head at his shoulder.

She only hummed in response. Her eyelids dropping. Tiredness had caught up with her again. However, living past dawn somehow seemed much more appealing this time. Even if only to the day they found the Dragonborn.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

She couldn’t remember the journey back to the villager’s cottage. It had all been a blur of hazy words, jarred motion and then blissful sleep.

Her eyes and head felt leaden when she finally awoke. Was it day or night? How long had she slept? It felt like she had spent two days sleeping. No loud noises, except for the occasional creaking of wood and the chirping of birds. Day time then. Slowly, she tried moving her fingers. What she was lying on was soft and smooth to the touch. Not fur then. Wool? Taking a deep breath she opened her eyes.

Green eyes greeted her. They lit up and she saw Erador standing up from a chair in front of her to move beside her. Lifting her head, she saw the familiar room of the villagers they had stumbled upon. By the looks of it she was on a bed with her cloak draped around her. Were they safe now to be here? Frowning she turned her head to Erador.

“What…?”

“I killed most of them” he whispered. Then he lifted up his hand to push her back down slowly. Most of them? So not all?

“Not all?” she inquired quietly. If he hadn’t gotten all of them, then they would need to prepare for the rest to show up again with a vengeance. He lowered his eyes, staring at the floor boards until sighing “Not all. I didn’t encounter the leader of the bunch at all.”

That was strange. Where could she have gone to? Why would she leave her bandit group behind?

“I don’t know either”, he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, “and honestly I have a bad feeling about what she had been up to while you were there.”

It would pose a problem that much was clear. Where ever the leader had been off to, it probably was something important. Like meeting someone. Just for what? Collecting ransom from other victims? Or… her stomach twisted. That bounty letter they had taken from the other one’s corpse. Oh Divines, if she had recognized her then.... Stop, no panic. Think. Even if, who would take such bounties? Whoever posed that bounty, they went to that person.

“Erador?” he turned his head slightly to her. The frowned when he saw her wide eyes.

“What is wrong?”

“Have you still the bounty letter from the other?” she whispered urgently. His frown deepened for a moment, before…

“You don’t think?” a short pause, “It would make sense. She would have recognized you and gone straight to Ulfric.”

Ice cold water had been dumped down her back. Talos, if that was true. Then they couldn’t stay for long. If the bandit leader reached them… well if she had started off when she had been captured and on horse. She would reach Whiterun now. Throwing the blanket aside she swung her legs hastily out of the bed.

Bad idea… Black dots were dancing in front of her eyes, swaying she reached out with her arms.

“Easy there”, two hands clamped down on her shoulders, pushing her back on the bed. Didn’t he understand that they needed to get going? Ulfric cannot ever get his filthy hands on her! There was no telling what he would do. With Ysolda dead and the guards would say it had been her who had been in that cell. He would surely make that connection. Torture and death most likely, after all he didn’t need her anymore. Looking down she realized she was only dressed in a light shift. Where was her armor? By the Divines, if he had left it with the bandits then……. A sigh interrupted her train of thoughts and she snapped her head back to him. How could he be still this calm? They needed to move!

“If the leader is telling Ulfric this all now, he would not arrive for another day. We still have time.” No, they didn’t. Waiting the whole day was foolish. A Thalmor should know this. Narrowing her eyes at him she let her gaze drift through the room. If he didn’t think they should get moving now, then she would make him. At least he was already clad in his armor.

“We still need to get moving you know” she quipped and tried standing up again. Slowly, no more black dots in her vision. This time he let her, following her every movement.

“Where is my armor?” She turned around to him frowning. Where was it? He stared at her for a moment, then got up slowly.

“You sure you can be up and move around already?” her frown deepened. Yes, she felt alright. Good even. Why was he asking this question? Did she have any bruises which should ache? Any cuts which could reopen again? Looking down on her she couldn’t see any of those. Her toes were a bit blueish, but that she supposed was normal when running around barefooted. Her skin showed no black bruises either. So why was he asking?

“You gave me quite the scare yesterday” his voice turned soft and when she looked up to him her heart plummeted into her stomach. For the first time today she looked at him clearly. His eyes were sunken, almost hollow looking and his skin had taken on a nearly sickly pale colour. Had he stayed up all night?

Her chest clenched and she took a small step towards him. Opening her mouth she tried to say something. Nothing came out. Just say something. Anything! But just what? That she was sorry? Her insides twisted at that, apologizing for that… her throat closed up. No, she couldn’t. How could she apologise for being trying to repent? For what she had done to Whiterun? No, that would be wrong.

Another step towards him didn’t help either. Her throat only tightened up more. Can’t they just forget this all happened and move on? She will find another way to repent, there had to be another way. Honour demanded it. He kept staring at her, shoulders slumped and his hands were twisting around themselves. Talos, what should she do? She was terrible. Considering her dead friends and not him. What a pathetic being she was. Where did that thought come from?

Talos, she was slowly forgetting he was a Thalmor. When did that happen?  His hands were still twisting and her gut was twisting at the sight. Her fingers reached out tentatively on their own to gently grasp them. He didn’t have his gauntlets on yet, skin touching skin, making her spine tingle. Her fingers resting uneasily on the back of his hands for a moment. Swallowing she slid them down grabbing his fingers, not intertwining. No that was too intimate. But she held his fingers nonetheless. They were limp in her grip and she pressed her lips together. Did he not want it? Hesitantly she slowly released her grip on him, only to be halted by him shifting his grasp. Her hands were now on the inside. Wide eyed she looked up only to see him staring intently at her hands. Leaning her head to the side she tried catching a glimpse of his face. Hair was obstructing her view on it, but she couldn’t bring herself to take a hand off his grip to brush it away. A squeeze made her look down again, now fascinated with how his thumbs were moving across her digits. Strangely enough it was soothing.

A creak from somewhere in the hut destroyed the moment and he let her hands fall, his own falling to his sides. The absence of touch was cold, she folded her hands in front of her. Turning her head to the source of the sound she saw the leader of the villagers walking down a set of stairs. Groggy by the looks of it.

“So she is awake” he directed the question towards Erador. Not amiable, she frowned. What happened?

“Yes she is” was the clipped answer from beside her. Looking to him, she saw that he had clenched his jaw with a hard glint in his eyes.

“Then the bargain is concluded. You should leave.” Now she was confused. They had been so friendly just yesterday.

“We will” Erador turned to her and gestured behind her. “There is your armor, we will be leaving now.” When he met her puzzled look, he shook his head mouthing a silent “not now”.

She slipped into her armor in utter silence. An icy silence making her skin crawl. The leader looked away respectfully and Erador looking somewhere just not her the entire time. Once she was done with her weapons, Erador grabbed her by her elbow and ushered her to the door. Shooting him a confused stare, he turned his head to the man again.

“We will be gone now.”

“Good riddance” it was a spat, which made her bristle inwardly. Erador had practically decimated the bandit camp and that is the thanks he got? Kicking him out as soon as she had woken up? Fine, they shouldn’t have wasted time and energy on this worthless pile of wood and desperation. The door was slammed shut behind them. Wincing at the loud sound she turned to Erador fully now.

“What had happened?” she demanded. After all, this had been the complete opposite of hospitality she had ever witnessed. He shook his head again and marched off to their right. Westwards if she remembered correctly. Clenching her fists she followed him. Why couldn’t he just tell her? Surely it couldn’t be that bad. Right? Uncomfortable silence settled around them. Fantastic, back to the beginning. Now if he could just loosen his gums a bit and finally tell her for Auriel’s sake what had happened, it would be something less of a strange affair. Plowing through the underwood in silence that was.

Otherwise it was a rather peaceful morning. Except for the occasional rumble of her stomach and she swore she had heard his growling as well. She should have protested being kicked out without so much as a bite to eat. The forest was a bit longer than she would have estimated. Swamps meant light tree groups not that dense. Unless they were far off course…. Ridiculous thought, they were on the right path. Right? Yes. Why would she even think that? Consulting the map would help that matter. Eyeing his backpack she thought about asking him. On second thought, probably not. They will probably need to stop at one point and talk about food. Maybe some supplies from Belethor had survived? Hopefully, leeks didn’t usually last long. Sighing she stared at his back. He wasn’t walking, he was striding forcefully. Not really necessary here she noted. The underwood was getting lighter and the familiar damp and mossy smell from the swamps got increasingly stronger. Half a day’s march left most likely. Then finally rest and some fresh food, a good mug of ale……. She could go on what it meant to be finally in an inn again. A good bed, no insane necromancers, no war front, yet, and simply out of the most immediate danger. Out of danger was an increasing rarity with how things had escalated.

The forest opened up abruptly to the glaring sun beating down on the muddy puddles in the swamp. Holding her hand up to protect her eyes, she looked on the ground. A trick Lydia… once taught her. Avert eyes until they have gotten used to the bright glow. Reminded her of a few times she had used mage light and temporary blindness only served for more panic.

“Never would have thought that I would be blinded in Skyrim of all places” he quipped somewhere in front of her. Finally he was talking again, Lord tight mouth. His hand was over his eyes, a corner of his mouth tucked up. Involuntarily she smiled at the sight. The gloom of the morning gone.

“Happens, especially when you are in the mountains and the sun comes out” she jokes back recounting the time she had gone up the ranges in the North. For what reason, she couldn’t remember. That had been with Lydia, a lifetime ago.

“Well snow is obvious” it was a playful scoff and she could hear the full-fledged smirk in it.

“Oh I forgot you were of superior mind.”

A moment of silence. Comfortable, not like the silence when they had been kicked out hours ago. Slowly taking her hands away she took a good look around her. The swamps already had some frost forming on the mud and some white coating the ground. It looked bleak, lifeless and foreboding.

“Ayera?” he sounded hesitant. Her stomach sank. She should have known he would address it again. A fool would think otherwise. Turning to him slowly, she got a good look at his face again. Some of his paleness had gone. Just… she couldn’t tell whether it was a good sign or not. He still looked drawn and gaunt.

“Yes?”

“They found out I was Thalmor” her breath stopped. How? He didn’t have the typical garment nor did he go around spouting about the Talos mistake. Spies would know that as soon as they would ask or if the villagers were tortured. With their description it would be painstakingly obvious he was on a secret mission. Divines, how had that happened? It didn’t matter now; all that mattered was making sure they were out of reach for anyone looking for them. At least, hopefully it would be that easy. But what was ever easy when she was involved?

“What now?” she asked, raising an eyebrow in his direction. Hopefully he had thought about it. A slip-up on his part. He had seemed like the perfect agent, never letting on he was secretly Thalmor. The only way she could imagine he would have slipped up was him saying something about Talos or divines forbid actually told them. The latter was highly unlikely.

“I think we settled on going to Morthal?” his tone was clipped and his lips pressed tightly together afterwards. Swallowing she observed him. He didn’t like it either. Neither did she. If he hadn’t let on he was a Thalmor, they would be walking with full bellies now. Not kicked out like unwanted visitors. He didn’t want to discuss it further. Who ever wanted to discuss their failures?

Nodding she set another foot into the near frozen swamp and took a deep breath. They would be marching for a long time. Judging how high the sun was, they would reach Morthal at sun set.

They walked in silence. Not that she complained. Talking to him, it would only lead them back to last night. She bit her lip. Don’t cringe or flinch. No sign of weakness. Especially not in front of him. What must he have thought when he had seen her like this? A lowly, pathetic Breton sniffling like a coward in the dirt? _You gave me quite the scare yesterday,_ had it been sincere? Genuine fright? It didn’t fit with the image she had of him. Stern with an air of superiority around him, how could he ever be frightened? It didn’t make sense. Though, he had seemed so…… _open_ this morning.

By Mara, did he actually feel something for her? No, no. That couldn’t be right. He had held a dagger at her throat for divines’ sake! _At the beginning_ _…_. After all he had gone after her and rescued her from the bandits. But he would have done it since she was friends with the Dragonborn. Nothing to do with feelings. What kind of illusions was she entertaining? _That incident on Loreius farm_ _……_. He had been far more absorbed in his thoughts. No concern for her anger. Well, he could have struck her. Why… no, stop thinking that way. Nocturnal, it only complicated matters. Then Whiterun, he had forced her to drink those stamina potions and… _divines_ , he had not rejected her when she had needed someone close in that cell. Then the necro…. By Talos, stop thinking about this already. Once this was all done they would go their separate paths. Better when there were no feelings involved.

Just she wished she could find a way to repay her mistakes in Whiterun. Poor Saadia, the Battleborns, Lydia, Ysolda and probably anyone who wasn’t a Nord. How could she ever condone what she had allowed to happen? Protecting those women feeling hadn’t been enough. What else could she offer? Her soul was already promised to Nocturnal. She had nothing to offer. There was no way. Was that the divines’ way of telling her she was not worthy? Not worthy of redemption? The chosen mortal by Akatosh not worthy? Who was she fooling, she was no Dragonborn. Her friend was. Not her. Not worthy… strange way to think about one’s self. Maybe… she wasn’t meant to find redemption. Sins could only be repaid in blood and fear.

 

The sun was quite low, orange light casting long shadows on the ground, when they finally reached Morthal. It had been a relief when the path they had taken from the forest had lead them to a stone paved one. For their feet and growling stomachs alike. At least no Frostbite spiders had crossed their paths. Those things made her neck hair stand on edge and run. Not that they were difficult to dispatch. Quite the opposite, but they had a tendency to fling sticky and poisonous goo through the air. Hadvar had gotten it badly when they had raced through the cave system under Helgen. Skin turning green and his saliva turning black, it had been absolutely stomach churning in the after effect.

Once the familiar wooden structures had come into view, she could have sworn that their feet had carried them faster. Guards had watched them wearily as they approached the city, but didn’t stop them. Why she didn’t know and didn’t care. No trouble with the guards was good news. Even if, they were only here for the inn right now. Food, she really needed something to fill her stomach now. A growl confirmed her thought immediately. Looking to her side, she could see Erador looking in different directions. He was probably in the same boat as her. This time they didn’t need to worry about poisoned food either. A good thought. She tugged on his cloak, diverting his gaze onto her.

“We need to go that way” she pointed to the bridge.

“I had not noticed” his smirk betrayed his humorous intention and she could only smile at it. There was no room for anything else but food, rest and a good drink. Nothing more. Also, it would be nice to be out of their armor again. Divines, it would be so nice not to have the familiar weight on her shoulders while sipping her mead. He slung an arm around her shoulder and pressed her into his side. What was he doing? “Play along” ducking his head to her ear to whisper, his breath hit the tip of her ear. A shudder ran down her spine. She should punch him for having this effect on her. By Talos if he did that again…. But he was right, they needed to maintain their act of a married couple. When could they drop that pretense? At one point they will start believing it. They couldn’t have that. Who in their right mind would want to be married to him? Arrogant and conceited… food. Think of food. No more Erador occupying her thoughts. She was better off not thinking too much about him. The stairs to the inn’s door were hastily skipped and they came to a halt in front of the door.

“Remember, you are my wife” she knew that. Why did he feel the need to repeat it? Of course she knew their act needed to be impeccable. Turning her head she shot him a sickly sweet smile. He rolled his eyes at her and opened the door, pushing her gently inside between her shoulder blades. Hot, sticky air hit her hard once she was over the threshold. She had to force herself from recoiling hard. This was new. The inn was full, not packed, but full. A novelty in Morthal, well a once in a blue moon event. What had she missed? Men were hunched over the tables, staring in their cups. Some were playing a card game, laughing loudly. The majority were Nords, shooting a look to Erador she saw him tightening his jaw. Was he anticipating trouble? There would be no trouble. Eat, drink and sleep. No way that could be messed up. On his side at least.  If one decided to yell at them for being elves then Jonna would surely kick them out. Speaking of which, they had been noticed.

“Do you want a room?” no greeting only a hastily spoken question. Ayera could only nod before Jonna opened her hand expectantly.  Sighing at the hastiness of this all, she dug into her pouch and counted out ten coin pieces into the waiting hand. Weird, usually Jonna was patient enough for her to take the time needed. Probably was stressed with all those people. Poor her.

“Room is on the furthest right” then she whirled around and marched straight back to the bar leaving her stunned at the door. Turning to Erador who gave her a quizzical look she simply shrugged and walked to the room they had been assigned to. The rooms were the same as she remembered, tiny and cramped. A cupboard, one bed and a chest with a small table in the corner. Not much room to move in, but they would make do. He was the last one in the room, closing the door carefully behind him.

“Not much room” was his first comment. Rolling her eyes, she replied, “Well, it is a small inn. What did you expect?”

“Not much if I am honest” turning around she saw him shedding his cloak, folding it slowly while staring back at her. She bit her lip, the stare made her feel defensive for some reason. Slowly she reached with her hand and undid the broach on her cloak and mimicked his action. It was a silent and awkward affair. Undressing from their armor while pointedly avoiding each other’s eyes. Why the need for that? They had seen each other nearly completely naked once. Eyeing the tunic she had taken from Loreius farm, she wondered if the chest area problem would become a source of trouble. Divines, please let it not become a problem. They already had enough on their plate. Maybe she could try and hold it up? Subtly of course. No need to make it as glaringly obvious if she walked around with her hands on her collar all the time. Maybe when they were sitting down and she was sure no one was watching she could readjust until she needed to do it again.

Divines, the cloth stank. Sweat and the murky jail smell clung to the tunic and she could only wrinkle her nose at it. It would need a good wash, not now though. Her stomach growled in impatience. Soon soon. The chest area was still too tight. Wrapping her arms around it only made it all worse. It pushed it all up. New plan…. Was it easy to tug up? She gave the collar a tug. Obvious, damn it. If she could only do something with this. At least the cloth was hanging awkwardly up and she feared any movement will cause it slowly wander down without her noticing. The less attention the better. No leering looks, or comments for that matter.

“The more you tug the worse it will get” she tore from her thoughts and looked up to him pointedly looking into her face. At least he had the decency not to look on her exposed cleavage.

“And what do you suggest?” she bit back. If he was so high and mighty, he would surely know how to solve it.

“Just let it be. Your tugging will show everyone there is something wrong. Pretend it is supposed to be like this” he moved his hands to grasp her and slowly pried them off. That was a disappointing solution. Act as if nothing was wrong. Her chest was about to fall out from this flimsy and stinking cloth! Not even his probably reassuring intended smile could change that. Another growl from her stomach made her groan in frustration. Fine, she would get something to eat and not think of this awful stench.

The common room was still in the rather full state when they re-entered. There was still some space left on the benches. She immediately set in motion to sit down before anyone could interfere. “I will get something to eat,” he whispered into her ear, while she sat down, squeezing her shoulder and left. Hopefully he brought no leeks with him. Right now she couldn’t see them anymore. A barking laughter disrupted her thoughts and she turned her head slightly to see the group of men playing cards. It looked like one of them had lost a bet and now was downing a mug. Wincing she recalled the rules Saadia, she bit her lip, had told her about the game. If you lost a round, drink a mug. Apparently the one to fall of the chair was the milkdrinker and had to buy the rounds for another session. Brutal once the mind was fogged by the alcohol and no more chance at winning any round was guaranteed. She quickly averted her gaze. If they saw her they might draw attention to her. Better not to draw unwanted attention to herself. Food, something to drink and finally a good night’s sleep. Suppressing a yawn she looked to the counter, she saw Erador smiling openly at the inn keeper who handed him two bowls of steaming something. Stew? Soup? Her stomach growled again as he drew nearer still grinning.

“Here” he set a bowl in front of her and she took a look at what she was supposed to eat. Seemed like a stew with meat pieces swimming in it. Divines, she could chuck it all down in one go if she could. What would happen if she did that? She knew better than not to, being sick to her stomach was not her priority for tomorrow. But would it be worth it after a day of pure marching? Definitely. Grabbing her spoon she dug in, like Erador who was already fully immersed in his eating as if he had been starving for a while week already. It was baffling how quickly he could get it down. Didn’t he get sick? Their bowls were empty fast, not that she minded. Her stomach felt full and warm. Blissful wasn’t the right word to describe this feeling.

“We have inns at home as well” his comment threw her off. What? Well, she hadn’t known that, but she had never thought of it either. Why wouldn’t they have inns? Who wouldn’t have the idea to make an inn, even in the oh so superior minded Altmer society? Where was he going with this? Raising a confused eyebrow in his direction, he only chuckled at her reaction.

“You seem so surprised” he put his elbow on the table, with his head on the hand and grinned at her. Such a tease. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards. Might as well embrace the effect he had on her. Who knew it would take a stuck up Thalmor to make her laugh?  
“Merely caught by surprise. Never thought of it actually” she admitted, turning her body to him as well, looking at his face.   
“Then I tell you about them” his grin got wider and for a moment something fluttered in her stomach, but it was gone as sudden as it had appeared. She was only imagining things. Surely, that was it. Her imagination running wild after spending so much time close to him. Once this was all over, that would go as well. She was sure of it. It had to.

“It is kind of like here, villages have them, towns, capitals, you know. Travellers, adventurers and normal folk mixing in the evening. Usually a lot of fun” he got the far off look again. Remembering most likely, she knew that now.

“Oh do tell?” she urged on. Would be interesting to hear what he had to share.

“I was in the army at one point” she froze and frowned. There was a difference between army and the Thalmor or was she misunderstanding something?

“Army and you know” she lowered her voice and jerked her head. Hopefully he got the hint “are separate?” He stared at her for a minute, blank until he opened his mouth again. “Yes, those two are separate. My organization is employed by the council, sworn to them. The army is sworn to the country and its people, ultimately the council is the head.” This was confusing. Why would a country have two separate bodies. She would have thought that the Thalmor would be the only military body of the Summerset Isles. That didn’t make sense. To her at least. He must have seen her confused expression. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and continued “I know it seems daft to you, but the army itself is more of a protect and serve the people. The Thalmor are enforcing the will of the council, inside and outside. The army was last deployed in the Great War.” That was a lot to take in. There was a different body of military. One which wasn’t Thalmor. Implications, implications.

“Anways, we are straying off topic” he said, scratching the back of his neck with the hand he had been leaning on. He didn’t want to talk about it. Understandable, she would think. Here in the middle of open hostile environment to the Thalmor. Nodding she send him a small smile. His face softened a bit.

“We were on a mission once. Confidential of course” he shot her a toothy grin. Of course confidential, nonetheless she grinned back. He seemed relaxed for once, a nice change. His face was still drawn, exhaustion held at bay. She knew that, but she couldn’t bring herself to make him sleep now. Not when they just arrived and just got talking for once.

“And we had to stop at an inn, I swear the weather had turned against us on that particular mission” he scratched his jaw, “ all ten of us drenched to the skin in our armor cramped into this small inn. And to say we were drowning our frustration as well. I can’t remember what we drank, but must have been strong stuff.” Ayera could only frown. Strong stuff in the Summerset Isle? She would have thought that Skyrim was the home of bloody strong drinks, especially with the mead and ale around. Wine was an entirely different matter.

“We have strong stuff as well, called brandy. Quite popular as well. Might have been we had a bit too much to drink from that particular beverage that night. Who knows? We certainly didn’t. Drank what we got and paid them.” That sounded pretty harmless, was something more coming?

“Anyways, we were so drunk, we fell asleep on the tables. The headache the day after was murderous you can imagine” oh yes she could. Once she had tried drinking Lydia under the table and fail. Miserably.

“The innkeeper was let’s say less pleased with the mess we had made in our drunken stupor” he flinched slightly at the memory. Hopefully out of embarrassment. That poor innkeeper.

“So while we were holding back any vomit we helped him clean up”, she cocked her head to the side. That was new.

“Don’t be surprised, we did feel a bit guilty. Anyways, that was the point we realised someone had taken all of our weapons.” She snorted on first instinct. Someone stole the weapons of trained high elf soldiers? Had they mentioned it in their reports?

“So can you imagine a whole troop of us just standing in the middle of the inn trying to understand what was going on?” Her grin grew involuntarily wider. She could imagine and divines, it was a funny picture. High elves in the typical gold armour gaping like stranded fish without any weapons.

“Of course we had our conjuration skills, but weapons are expensive. Looked like the inn had been robbed while we were too wasted to even register what was going on.” She swallowed. That must have been a hard hit with reality at that point. Sworn to protect the people and failed due to their own stupidity. Especially for him. He and his sense of fulfilling his mission to the dot.

“Yeah I know it wasn’t our most brilliant time. We were the laughing stock of the village quite frankly. Not that I minded, but some of my group did. All that training and on the first mission everything that could go wrong went wrong. Our nerves were on edge and…” he trailed off and looked away. Her stomach sank. Did that mean? No, she couldn’t imagine him doing or participating in a massacre. Surely, right?

“Did you…” she started but was promptly interrupted by him shooting her a cold stare.

“You still think I am like that?” his voice was dripping in contempt now and she recoiled internally. She should not have said that. Her chest began to constrict, her throat tightened up. _Think for once_. Just what? What to say? What to do? Flight or fight?

“I didn’t mean that you did, but…”

“But I had implied it nonetheless?” she nodded, her hands twisting around themselves. Divines, why was she so anxious? He sighed, visibly slumping his shoulders. Disappointed? If yes, then… he hadn’t meant it like that. But she had thought it nonetheless. Did she still think so badly of him? No, she was right to think that. He held a dagger at her throat once. But he had justified it! And not apologised either. She froze. Had he apologised for that? No. No wonder she thought so badly of him.

“I am sorry to burst your bubble, but we didn’t” he hissed, narrowing his eyes at her. Pressure was starting to build behind her eyes. No, not now. Don’t show any signs of weakness, especially in front of him. Why did he have to make her feel this way? She was in the bloody right, for Talos’ sake! He should apologise first.

“You never gave me a reason not to” she snapped back without thinking. Then it dawned on her. Crossed the line was an understatement, overshot it and burned it down was the more accurate saying to what she had just done. Too late to draw it back. His eyes widened and his jaws were visibly grinding against each other.

“If that is so” he started dangerously low and leaned in. She couldn’t avert her eyes in shame, staring at him wide eyed unable to formulate a coherent sentence. Even if she said something, he would only be more irate. Probably best if she just shut up and found a way to resolve it.

“Then I have nothing more to say to you” he spat at her and she flinched squeezing her eyes shut.

She wasn’t sure why, but with all the pent up tension, he surely would have hit her. But the blow never came. Only empty and disappointing silence. Opening her eyes tentatively, she drew back from a furious stare and crossed her arms in front of her. Then he was up and left her at the table, dumbfounded to what just happened. She dared a glance around at the other patrons. Hopefully they hadn’t noticed what had transpired between them. It would be embarrassing to say the least and quite frankly, she didn’t need more shame loaded on her shoulders. Releasing a long sigh she hadn’t noticed she had held, she let herself slump on the table putting her hands through her hair. By Sithis, she screwed everything up with this mer. The pressure behind her eyes got unbearable. Biting her lip she willed it away. If they hadn’t spilled in their little spat then they surely weren’t needed now anymore. Go after him? No, even if she wanted to she couldn’t face him right now with all that pressure behind her eyes. Divines, she was really about to cry. Maybe a stroll outside could help, cold air could hopefully prevent any tears. Hopefully, by Talos, if she couldn’t hold them back then what good was she? Standing up was so much more difficult than she thought it would be. Wobbly knees and the wavering vision. Oh no, not here. She couldn’t rush though, the less attention the better. With slow and measured steps she took a step towards the door. Taking a deep breath, her vision got somewhat better and she strode over to the door. It was cold and she went outside without anything warm. Her cloak was in their room, but he was there and she would rather not be in his proximity right now. He felt the same, she really shouldn’t have said it. There was a lone bench next to the inn, better than wandering around nowhere she supposed. Who knows what is around Morthal during night time. Frost spiders would be the least of her concerns then. Who knows? Vampires, bandits, forsworn if unlucky. No, here outside in the cold was alright. Leaning her head against the wooden walls of the inn, she stared out from the roof into the night.

This was all so stupid, she thought while pulling her knees up to her chest trying to preserve some heat. Why did he have to snap at her like that? He had insinuated it. So blatantly insinuated, she would have been a fool not to have that thought. After all that is what the Thalmor did. Just that hadn’t been the Thalmor, it had been the army. Different he had said, just what was different? The army and the Thalmor served the Aldmeri Dominion, furthering its interests. Surely there cannot be moral differences. Sworn to protect the people, sure, the differences were in the vows. Just who followed a set of vows in that country? She sat up straighter, why would he also change from the army to the Thalmor? She swallowed hard. He wasn’t the typical Thalmor agent. Except for the time he had held the dagger at her throat, but in Whiterun…. He couldn’t be that bad. After all, a heartless bastard didn’t risk his neck to get her out of a bandit camp no matter her worth. Unless this was all really just because she knew the Dragonborn. All a facade, a pretty charade to make sure she complied until she was no longer needed. Then an accident… her breathing accelerated and her chest tightened. Oh no, do not think of this. He was not Astrid, no Mercer either. Actually, he was like Mercer, keen on the mission, ruthless and prepared to kill to accomplish it. Once she was no longer of use he would surely try and silence her. No matter how close they got in the end. Sometimes she was glad she was not completely bound to the cistern, Mercer only raised the hair on her neck.

How foolish would it be to think he wouldn’t betray her once she posed any risk. By the divines, she was stupid. Why would he stay up all night looking after her if he wasn’t concerned in the slightest? He had that look this morning. Utter exhaustion and sincere concern somewhere. Groaning she rubbed her arms, it was getting to cold, but she wasn’t ready to go in just yet. That mer, he will be the end of her. Somehow, intentionally or not he will be the sole reason she would go to Sovngarde earlier than necessary. But with all the sincerity and warmth he had shown, he… she looked on her nails, it was highly unlikely he would betray her like Astrid did. Still no guarantee, Astrid had considered her family and still stabbed her in the back. Somehow, her stomach twisted at the thought of him betraying her, it seemed so inconceivable. Like she did with… Shut up.

They weren’t getting anywhere if she kept on justifying distrusting him solely on him being Thalmor. After all, he had not abandoned her in Whiterun, cared for her when she had been unconscious, held her in the dungeons, held her, healed her… divines, her eyes were watering again. She was weak. This time, she couldn’t stop them from spilling and she sniffed audibly into the night. How badly had she screwed up this evening. They were supposed to get food and sleep. Nothing more and not get into a petty argument followed by icy silence and her pathetic sobbing on the inn’s porch. Why couldn’t she just not think the worst when it came to him? She thought they had made enough progress for not to automatically assume such a thing. The way he had held her hands this morning… he wasn’t thinking of her like a means to an end. He thought of something more profound of her. Just what? By Sithis, it didn’t matter what he thought of her and their relationship. Right now, she needed to go back in and fix this all. As if that could be mended by just talking, but she had to try. Hopefully he won’t tear her head off as soon as he saw her.

Her legs felt heavy as she disentangled her legs. Not even apologising to Lydia had felt so daunting. What was it with him? He was the most insufferable man there was. Well, insufferable when he was like that. All those weird reactions in her stomach, that fluttering she had started experiencing recently. It wasn’t natural. Maybe it was just her guilt making her feel that way. Slowly she trudged over to the door and ducked inside. Their room was the on the right at the front if she remembered correctly. Tentatively, she pushed the door open and swallowed when she met his cold stare. Maybe it would be best not to… No, now or never.

Gritting her teeth she stepped inside and shut the door again, blocking out the sounds of the common area. He said nothing, not that she had expected him to, but she couldn’t think of something either. Her throat tightened up the longer she stared at him. Words were failing her, her mind blank of any possible statement. For being a master thief, she was pretty useless now with words. By Akatosh, why now of all times? Opening her mouth she hoped some words would escape, but only a strangled sound came out and she promptly shut it again. He raised an eyebrow in her direction, a rather amused expression. How dare he mock her in this situation? She shouldn’t have come back to apologise. That… bastard. But damnit, say something.

“I…” his eyebrow rose even higher and she bit her lip. “I was wrong…” she stopped and stared at him for a moment. No reaction. Her hands started to get twitchy and she clasped them together in front of her, “to assume that you would do such a thing.” She ended and looked at him. As before nothing had changed. The door was right behind her, it would take a moment to get the door open, but it was somewhere to bolt at least. Her stomach sank as more moments passed without him physically reacting. Then finally he sighed.

“I had wished we would have gotten that far at least” he ran a hand over his face. She looked down in shame. After all, he gone after her, cared for her despite being a Thalmor. How pretentiously blind she was. Thinking herself better, but she had not been any better. Assuming that they were all the same.

“I am sorry” she mumbled, looking back up to him. His eyes widened a fraction, as his hand stilled and he froze. She had caught him off guard. The hand dropped to his side and for once she saw the black rings underneath his eyes. Stepping forward, closer to him she raised her hands and laid them in his offered ones. Firm and cold, she squeezed them gently. Her cheeks flared up in heat and the strange fluttering in her abdomen returned. As much as the reactions confused her and exhilarated her, she might as well embrace them. Whatever they meant, it was probably good. A rush of courage suddenly ran through her. It was utter madness she told herself later, but she rose to her tip toes and gazed intently in his eyes.

He only frowned and before the short streak of mad bravery or brave insanity left her, she didn’t know what the case was, she pressed her lips on his and stilled. It was like nothing she had ever experienced. This was uplifting, the most light-headed, heat inducing… She snapped back, waiting for him to react. The hands in hers had frozen up. Shock most likely. Maybe she had overstepped.

 Foolish girl…. Slowly she let herself fall back on her footballs, hanging her head. How could she look into his eyes ever again? Probably never. Her pack and armor were easily packed together. Leaving in the night would be child’s play, but she’d rather not. His hands though shifted, her gaze snapped up to his face. Eyes wide, he leaned down while he gripped her on the waist lifting her back up. Now she knew why. Smiling widely she pressed her forehead against his and looked at his star struck expression. The fluttering and the warmth spreading from where he was touching her through the clothes made her want to get closer to him. Her hands moved up to his collar and gripped it tightly. Divines, she could stay forever in this moment.

“This…” he gulped finally, not moving, leaving his hands and their position as it was. A good sign, she supposed, “was unexpected.” She raised an eyebrow. Of all things he could have said, he had to comment on how unexpected it was? A small grin formed on his face and the fluttering, the heat in her cheeks flared up again. Her body was acting on his own, in a pleasant way, but it was all out of her control. He should just shut up and kiss her back. Was this so difficult? Rolling her eyes at him only broadened his grin, but he made no further move. By the Nightmother’s wrinkles, he was teasing her! That insufferable mer. Somehow the thought only made her smile wider. Tilting her head to the side, she looked at him from beneath her eyelashes. Someone had told her it usually worked, but he only tensed up. His grip tightened and raised her up slightly. She could not say whether it was a good reaction or not, but before she could react he was on her again. Rough and demanding. It took her a moment to react before being overwhelmed, trying to get closer to him. Her eyes fluttered shut, as her body got lighter and she swore she could float to the skies. The kiss ended far too quickly for her taste. However, the star struck on his face was more than worth it. Her hands were resting on his forearms, his on her hips.

Then they were gone, hers falling to her sides and his somewhere. All she could see was his face. What would he say? Surely there would be no rejection. Right? He had kissed her back. Swallowing she watched his eyes race around the room. Awkward silence filled the space between them again where none had been before. This was not right, it screamed in her mind. Anything to rectify it. Just what? She was helplessly watching him struggling with something.

“Ayera, we…” he started and she took a deep breath. Why she knew not. A sigh, he then muttered underneath his breath, “I cannot promise you anything.”

She knew how it felt being punched in the gut, but this… this was far worse. Why she knew not.

“But you don’t need to” she tried weakly. Her voice was pathetically wavering. Sithis, she shouldn’t be this upset about this. Walking away from Farengar had never been that hard. Why was he bringing it up in the first place? For Sithis sake, they just kissed. There was no way he could just walk away from this unaffected. Like, this was not possible or was she far too gone? She looked at him wide eyes. Her heart sank when his expression went from open to guarded and then closed off.

“There is nothing to promise” he pried her hands off and then there was space between them again. It felt empty and so vast. Even if she should, she could not lift her arms again or move her legs to close the distance. Blinking she looked to the ground and swallowed. He had decided to be difficult, she knew he felt something. Surely, since he had kissed her back. Well, two could play this game and she would be damned if she were the first one to come running back. She slowly took a step back and eyed the door. Outside or stay in the common room until she was excessively drunk? Better than to stay in this room for now. Surely, there would be still mead unless it was all drunk up already.

Who would have known Morthal would experience some activity in its tavern for once. Just somewhere else other than this room. But mead sounded good, really good. Maybe this all will be alright in the morning, if not then…. She wasn’t sure when she had reached the door and walked out to the common room. The mead itself was quickly acquired, a few coins in exchange for a big tankard. Now she was sipping from it seated on a bench around the fire. Her fingers were starting to warm up while she observed the crowded room again. Were there new arrivals? Squinting she mustered the group sitting a bit further away from the fire. All she she see were three figures huddled in their cloaks clutching their tankards. Shaking her head slightly she diverted her attention back to her tankard and took a big gulp.

Stupid mer, with stupid ideas or whatever made him say that he couldn’t make any promises. It couldn’t be really because she was a Breton, well half Breton, but nonetheless he had commented disdainfully on that part. _That happened in the beginning_ _…_. So what? He clearly thought of it that way now. Why would he change his views because of her? Feelings could be explained away very easily or even acted upon for that matter. Just what was she feeling then? Was it genuine or was it some illusionary thoughts she was having? Nothing was ever easy, especially for her. The one cursed  mortal by the gods. What would she sometimes give for a normal life. Somewhere with a family, stable life no adventuring and nearly dying a few times and most of all no destiny to fulfill. No hero expectations thrown her way and then the disappointed stares when she failed. She was no invincible warrior. The only things she was relatively good at were the hastily taught magic skills and the self trained archery skills with daggers at her side.

What must have Ulfric felt when he realised who the chosen champion of the Divines was? Had he raged? It had seemed so when she entered his palace in full intent to join. The coldness which met her from his part was far worse than the winter outside. She couldn’t really remember why but she had snapped at one point and punched him. Chuckling into her mead at the memory of his shocked face and that smug feeling might have shown a bit too openly on her face for someone in the common area shot her a weary glance. Quickly she averted her eyes and swirled the mead again. But maybe… that was the same situation now.

He had expected something else. Pretty much said it when she had hinted so strongly at him massacring civilians. Idiotic even in a sense. Hadn’t he offered to help the villagers on his own accord? She was starting to turn out like Ulfric. Shameful even. Maybe it was best if she left while she could. He was messing with her head, her stomach even! That fluttering feeling. Whatever it was, it couldn’t continue.

A loud yell made her head jerk up and lower it back again seconds later. Nothing dangerous, just someone lost another round of cards it seemed by the ruddy faced behind the tankard. She caught a brief glimpse of the tight-lipped expression of the innkeeper.

“Ey, more ale!” the burlier of the group shouted out to the woman. Pity was all she could feel for her. Being commanded around like a grunt with the companions. Hopefully they paid her, pissing off the innkeeper wasn’t in anyone’s best interest. She watched as the woman getting the empty tankard to fill it anew, without drinking from her own. Somehow, the urge to drink and get absolutely drunk had been wiped from her mind. Her senses tingled at the back of her mind. Danger? No, this was Empire friendly territory. Involuntarily her eye flitted across the room for any traitorous glint of a dagger. Nothing.

She was being paranoid. That was it. Simply paranoid. Another swig down and for a moment she thought she could get finally be rid of the feeling, but it stayed. Setting her tankard down, she huffed annoyed. It wasn’t about perceived danger. It was this… whatever he was to her, bugging her still even in a slightly less sober state. There she sat with a half empty tankard of mead and still couldn’t let their latest spat go. For Divine’s sake, they both were being petty and tomorrow this all will be gone. Or so she hoped. Biting her lip she stole a glance to the closed door to their room. She was being idiotic, really. This spat had only been because of her and the rejection had been her entire fault as well. Who kissed the one they accused of murder moments prior? Even with apologising, had she really thought he would forgive her so readily, so fast? How stupid could one be? Apparently her level of stupidity.

No wonder Astrid managed to betray her that easily. She should just go, walk away while she still could. After all he didn’t need her to find that dragonborn. Whoever that was, something really confusing was coming her or his way. She didn’t even know anymore. After all, once he was asleep she could just walk away. It was easy. Get her pouch, sneak out and never look back. But somehow… it seemed a far away option from her. It was easy and at the same time not. How convenient. Might as well get drunk and forget about it for now. They could sort it out tomorrow. Probably just stress making him and her on edge. They would talk tomorrow. But before, she would get another mead. Clutching her tankard in her left hand she started fishing in one of her pouches for money for a refill. Was it two or three septims again? Did the war blow up the prices? Certainly did in Falkreath or Dawnstar. On second thought, Dawnstar was relatively bad off even with a habour and two mines. The state of the hold’s capital sometimes astounded her. Her legs wobbled slightly as she slowly made her way to the innkeeper.

“Can I have a refill please?” she internally cringed at how forced this sentence came out. Her cheeks felt numb already. It didn’t usually take her that fast into that kind of state. What was in this mead? A terse nod and an outstretched hand were the only answers she got. Definitely not a happy innkeeper. Might be better if she avoided any unnecessary contact with her. While the inn keeper filled up her tankard, Ayera looked to their room door again. Shut as usual. Just what was he doing in there? Sleeping already? Who could sleep with all this racket? The tankard was rudely pushed into her hands. What was her problem? Seriously.

Raising an eyebrow only brought her a disapproving scowl. Alright, back to the bench it was and then go to bed once she had finished it. Tomorrow will be a new day without endless wandering around swamps. Or getting attacked by bandits. Blissful safety in a town. Something hard connected with her butt. Stumbling forward the tankard slipped out of her hand and landed on the floor. Who dared to touch her? Swirling around she saw the chubby face of one of the card players. He had had too much mead. How else could he have such a bright red nose? Almost comical if he hadn’t slapped her butt.

“Oi, lass. Come and play with us?” the way he pronounced play made her spine tingle. Freezing up she just stared at him. Did he seriously suggest that she would sell herself to the likes of him? No, no and no. Whiterun had been enough, no one will ever touch her like this ever again. She could feel her face contorting on its own. Was it a scoff or pure fury? All of it at once? She didn’t know, all she knew was that he had to go down. Her fist flew out and connected with this… oaf’s nose with a satisfying crunch. His head had snapped back. Time slowed down for her. Silence fell over the common room. Her neck hairs were standing on edge with all the eyes fixed on her back. Let them gawk. Never would she have let this slide. _Look to the right_ _…_. There he stood, the source of all her annoyances. For once he looked surprised. Shocked. Furious? She just couldn’t read him.

Then the moment was gone. She had to duck and scramble out of the way of three furious men roaring, charging her way. Chaos broke out. Fists were flying everywhere and before she could even register the whole room was engaged. The group she had eyed earlier had run in, the old man was waving around his cane. There was no real target, it was everyone on everyone. But where was the oaf? Where was the man who touched her?! She would not rest until he was dead. Diving into the mess of bodies and shouts, she caught a glimpse of this cretin. His broad face was shining with sweat. The edges of her vision moved in. With a yell she stormed over to him, fists raised. He would not get away from her.

Then she was onto him, fists flying in his face, chest, anywhere she could reach and see. His arms were up to shield himself from her blows. Snarling she clawed at his arms, leaving deep, slowly turning red gashes. Was she screaming? She couldn’t tell. All she could hear was the crashing and yells from everyone around her. Suddenly she was lifted off, her feet were uselessly kicking in the air as this someone, who was going to die, dragged her away. This time she yelled and tried to move towards the bleeding man in front of her again. Futile, an arm had wound itself around her midsection. Who dared to touch her again? Whose throat will make the acquaintance of her dagger? Her hands flew almost on their own to her hips only to find emptiness. She froze, her vision broadened again and now she saw the chaos. Some were lying on the floor unmoving. Dead, she did not care. Weak if they were. Another haul  and she swore whoever restrained her, had to re-adjust his grip. Her stomach flipped uncomfortably.

“Halt!” a loud booming voice tore through the chaos and it was as if someone had lifted a veil revealing the dangerously cold stare of the guard’s captain. Everyone let go of the ones they had either been punching or defending against. Not a single noise, just dead silence. Enough to make her hair at the back of her neck rise. So not good, really not good. Were there any other escape routes except the door which the stupid guard was blocking? None, Sithis, they would throw her into jail for this. Starting a brawl and getting caught nearly red-handed. Hefty fine and if lucky just a night in jail. Why was she so keen on being in jail? If she had just killed him in silence and without witnesses she wouldn’t be here now. But then again, there was no contract on him. Maybe she could manipulate someone to want him dead and pray to the Night mother.

“Who started this?” the guard’s voice cut violently through her thoughts. Whoever still held her, let his arm grow slack and her feet hit the floor forcefully. However, she couldn’t turn her head to see who had the audacity to touch her. Fingers were pointed at her, the majority. Some were pointing to another group, the one she had eyed earlier. Why would they get involved? Frowning she looked at the three again.

Two Nords by the looks of it and a dark elf, clutching a staff for dear life. The man was looking between them, lingering on her for a while. Why bother concealing her expression? It was plain as day that she had started it. Why deny? She almost felt sorry for the poor man, trying to figure out what was most likely the truth. A sudden push against her shoulder, made her tumble to the side into someone who steadied her. Looking up fleetingly she saw the tightly clenched jaw of him. Great, he was here. Breathing out slowly, she realised who had pushed himself forward. The growl was inevitable. That pathetic butt slapper had gone forward and was talking quietly to the guard. She was done for. Her face contorted into a snarl as she watched the man gesturing wildly in her direction. There was nothing she could do now. How utterly pathetic in a way.

“He says you had punched him without provocation” the guard was now addressing her. A statement, rather a question. Did he really believe this cretin? Surely he could smell how drunk he was.

“He…” before she could finish her sentence, he interrupted her, “Since you are not denying it, you will be kicked out.”

Her mouth hung open. Did he just dismiss her just like that? What kind of guard was he? Rage settled in the pit of her stomach and she clenched her fist. Continue, let them all hear and see this injustice. He didn’t, instead he whirled around to the other accused group and jabbed a finger into the tallest Nord’s direction.

“And you don’t get involved in matters which are not your concern. You can go with this law breaker” at that he threw her a cold stare. She stared back hard. May he die a painful death. Murmurs started to fill the air. Eyes were glued on her while she stood there rigidly staring at the gleefully smirking man next to the guard.

“Get moving!”

“We need to get our things” traitor was all she thought as Erador stepped forward and lifted a hand as if to pacify. What had gotten into him? Why wasn’t he defending her? How could she forget, he was a mer and she was a filthy Breton. An unforgettable obstacle. Clenching her jaw, she stared at the ceiling. Divines, did she really need to sleep outside tonight? A rough yank towards the room brought her nearly face to face with him.

“What were you thinking” he hissed into her ear as he furiously led her to the door. “Starting a fight. By Auriel you could have landed in jail, stubborn woman.” Could he not understand? Didn’t he see what had happened?

“Haven’t you seen what happened?” she tried to keep her voice calm, but it wavered.

“I did, but commencing a bar fight won’t win you favours here.” Not in Morthal that was for sure. Only idiots and morons apparently.

Their things were quickly gathered, her pouch slung over her shoulder, the armor weighing down uncomfortably on her shoulder. They were pushed roughly outside.

“Well done” his voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“What would you have had me do? Smile and do nothing?” It sounded ridiculous even to her. The half shadows hid his face from her. She couldn’t really see his expression.

“No!” He burst out. She took a small step back. That response was unexpected. First he was angry that she had started a fight and now he disagreed with not doing anything?  Did he even know what he had said?

“Then what should I have done? Tell oh all knowing wizard!” She should not have said that, even not being able to see his face she knew he had clenched his jaw tightly. Before he could retort however, the door to the inn opened again and three figures were pushed outside.

“So now what?” an angry voice reached their ears. She and Erador glanced shortly at each other to which he only raised an eyebrow. “This is your shit, sort it out.”

By the looks of it the smaller Nord of the other group was berating the taller one.

“We cope, as we always have”, it was a calm tone.

“But jumping into the fight for a complete stranger? Have your wits left you?!”

“And what, sit still and pretend it didn’t happen?”

“Yes, that was expected of you. But no! You had to jump in to defend a poor girl’s honour!”

“Now you are confusing what is expected and is commonly the case!” Their voices got increasingly louder and Ayera hesitated. Was it a good idea to intervene two strangers having a shouting match at each other? Her eyes landed on the third, the Dark elf. He was still clutching his staff and was hunched over. Visibly uncomfortable, somehow she felt sorry for him. After all it was her fault his friends, if they were, were going at each other.

“Oh, even if! She had it under control!” They must have sensed her presence for the smaller one whirled around to her and scrunched up his nose in disgust.

“You got guts to approach us now after all you’ve done.” She nearly shrank away from his furious glare. A squeeze on her forearm made her stand straight still.

“Excuse my companions, we are a bit riled up with the recent developments” the dark elf spoke up from the middle. If they were talking about the bar fight as the only development then she would sell the night mother. Just she couldn’t just pry, as much as she wanted to unfortunately. Nodding she looked to the tall Nord who still glared at the smaller Nord and vice versa.

“Since we are in the same predicament, I would suggest we all go somewhere. Safety in numbers” Erador said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. The three in front of her exchanged glances quickly.

“Sounds good to me” the dark elf shrugged.

A groan diverted her attention to her left. The staring contest had stopped and the smaller one had crossed his arms. “Fine, we will. But this is all your fault.” He pointed at her. Breathing out, she looked to the other one. This was going to be a difficult evening if two of them decided to be mightily furious with her.

“Don’t listen to him, he is angry because he couldn’t finish his ale”, the taller one commented and stepped forward to them extending his hand towards her.

“I am sorry this man grabbed you inappropriately”, smiling she took his hand and shook it.

“Ayera and he is Erador” she jerked her head in Erador’s direction.

“A pleasure. Sven”, he laid a hand on his chest, then gestured to the dark elf, “Fevuril” the elf bowed slightly, “then there is Bjorn.” The small Nord did nothing, only huff.

“So… where do we sleep?” it was the obvious question. Just she would have never thought that Fevuril would ask it. Most likely Bjorn. Where could they sleep? Outside of town was out of question, the swamps were far too dangerous and the cold won’t be their friend either. The mill? No… far too many opportunity to be murdered in case that man got stupid ideas.

“What about the burnt down house?” Sven suggested suddenly. A burnt down house? Frowning she looked to Erador. What did he think of this? She met his eyes with raised eyebrows.

“A burnt down house?” she voiced probably their shared thoughts.

“Really Sven? Isn’t that a bit disrespectful?” Now she was confused. Did someone die in that fire?

“And where else do you suggest? As far as I know the guy moved on the next day. Can’t get more disrespectful than that”, Svenr snapped back. Now she was officially curious now. A fire, a burnt down house and someone who was not faced at all with it?

“Mind telling us what happened?” she intervened before Bjorn could interject. Maybe it would be best not to let him speak tonight. Just this night, tomorrow was another day. Maybe they wouldn’t stay anyways. If they couldn’t stay in the inn then what was the sense in staying if they couldn’t find the dragonborn? They could talk about it tomorrow, once these three were gone. After all, they could be spies or desperate for money. Had the bounty letters reached Morthal already? Divines, please not tonight or tomorrow. Who knows where else they were. Breathe in and out, no use panicking about it now.

“In said house lived a family, wife husband and daughter. One night it burned down to a crisp” she couldn’t help but shudder at the malicious tone Bjorn spat in their direction, “the daughter and wife died. Tragic I know. The husband however got engaged the very next day.” Her spine tingled and she could feel her chest constricting. Murder, most definitely murder.

“Is it being investigated?” Erador asked, while squeezing her shoulder. When had he placed his hand there? Secondly, why hadn’t she felt it?

“The guards are superstitious.” She snorted involuntarily. Poor excuses for a guard, unless they had been bribed. Might explain why she wasn’t even given a chance to explain her side of the story back at the inn.

“I think they are right. Sleeping in that house won’t be good and surely the divines will judge us harshly.”

“And where else? The nights are getting colder, we need to make do with whatever we get.” Sven was a pragmatist it seemed. Just sleeping in the ashes of a child… it felt wrong. Even to her, the master assassin. Were there any other options? Morthal had no walls, the wind will blow through every corner and setting camp outside at the mill would be like sleeping in the swamp already.

“I don’t think there are other options” she said slowly.

“Well then, it is not like our situation will become any better if we stand around for much longer” Fevuril said while gesturing into the dark.

“Do you know where it is?” Erador asked tiredly. Turning around she could make out his hand on his face. Had he been half asleep when she had decided to get them all kicked out?

“Of course” a bright flash of light blinded her shortly. Her hand was instantly over her eyes. Slowly she removed them again after the initial stabbing pain in her eyes had eased. A mage then, she should have known. Maybe he had been to Winterhold College, maybe he could tell her about its final moments. However, she had heard that most mages from the college stayed there or went on to become court mages. Rarely to become traveling companions of two warriors by the looks of it.

“Seriously, Fev? We asked you numerous times to warn us before you go casting your fancy light magic!” Bjorn yelled. Squinting she looked around. There was a large and red scar across Bjorn’s forehead. Whoever had healed the wound had done a poor job at it. Most likely infection had set in and with a poor healing process came the ugly and red scars. But the gash looked like… something with massive claws had taken a swipe at his face. Dragon. Sithis, if there was a dragon nearby. Oh no. A dragon was the least of her worries, she didn’t need new problems. Not with him in her life. Was she ever going to be rid of him?

“I suppose you have a handy torch just lying around do you?”

“No, but blinding me won’t help your precious arse.”

“That just made no sense.”

“Hey, quit your yapping and get going!” Sven bellowed between the argument while making a shooing gesture in their direction. Biting her lip, so she didn’t chuckle too obviously, she watched how the two glared daggers at each other. How did that rag tag group come to be? Or was it simply the fact of getting kicked out was making this Bjorn this grumpy? She could understand, she would be pissed as well. But how had he gotten involved? After all, not throw the punch in a fight he was not involved in was fairly easy.

The walk was silent with the small light bobbing up and down in the darkness. Erador still had his hand on her shoulder. Whatever the reason was, it didn’t matter. A rather comforting gesture after the last few words they had exchanged. If he was still angry at her, she couldn’t care less. What tiny gestures could do. Tiny chills ran down her spine as they reached the remains of a burned down wall. A little child died here. Swallowing she took a heavy step towards the ruins. This looked just like the sanctum in the aftermath. Everything had been dark with the occasional flickering of dying embers. They hadn’t stayed long, hastily fled. No burials either. Somehow she could see the flames eating up the wood. Had they screamed while they died or… another swallow, had they slept? Suffocated before burning. No pain, just simply slipped away.

“Are you alright?” Erador’s whispered question diverted her attention. Had she been too obvious again? Best he didn’t worry or suspect anything. Too late for that, if he noticed something off then he will make some assumptions or keep them in mind and ask later. Either he would view it as a weakness or something to know her better by. Whatever he was thinking, she never knew. Stupid mer being too contradicting. Here he wondered why she said those things which set him off. She nodded, but somehow she knew he would not buy that gesture right now. Another squeeze, nothing more. A hug would be too telling. Neither did she want one. Not from him at least, he wouldn’t know why she was uncomfortable. Those were the worst hugs, the ones which were not out of sympathy from the situation, but only for comforting sake. How she hated them. Saadia had given up trying to hug her. If she had known she had cried after the assassination of the Emperor, not like she had assumed for Lydia, she would have hated her much earlier.

“So, we are supposed to sleep here? In the middle of ash? We will suffocate!” was it Sven who complained? She couldn’t really see who had spoken. The blue mage light was hovering in the middle of the burnt down room, throwing deep shadows on all of their faces.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but there is nothing else we can go to”, the mage light shivered slightly. It would go out soon enough, though she wondered. How skilled and powerful was Fevuril? Hopefully she could ask him at some time. A yawn forced itself past her resolve. Another squeeze, this time more reassuring. If he would just say something again, what was she supposed to think he meant? Complicate it beyond necessary seemed to be his purpose of life.

But the ash might be a big problem though. Couldn’t they somehow just shovel it away? Be it with just their hands. Bending down, she started shoving heaps of ash together. Flakes stuck together or flew over her hands.

“What are you doing?”

“You complained about the ash. No use standing around here and not do something.”

Silence. Why was shoving ash together such a tedious task? Could she just put some water on it? Would it clump it together or would it just liquidize?

“Well, she has a point” the voice belonging to Fevuril said and he crouched down beside her. Then slowly, out of the corner in her vision, she saw them all going down and try their best to clear the area. Grudgingly judging by one exasperated sigh. Her eyes rolled almost instinctively. There was no use whining about the present now. What happened, happened. A simple fus-ro-dah would solve this whole dilemma. Or so she thought. What would happen? All she would produce would be a concentrated force blast. Wouldn’t it just whirl it all up more? Pinching her lips she looked at the neat little pile she had gotten together. Would it be worth it to try and face potential failure?

“I tried that once, didn’t work” a cheery voice interrupted her and made her head turn slightly. Fevuril stood there with his hands full of ash and was throwing it out at the side.

“Oh?” was all she could manage. At least he saved her from an embarrassment. Erador would have thought she was truly incompetent by then.

“Students of the college sometimes have to clear out the snow and I thought the same thing. Blow it away”, someone to her left snickered. Was it Sven? She wasn’t too sure, “and all it did was to distribute the snow all over the area I had just cleaned. Mind you I had a broom, no hands. Our alteration master just laughed and said no more magic for you today.” Her lips involuntarily curled up. After all, a Winterhold student then. Had he been there for its destruction?

Smiling at him, she shoved a few handful and threw them over the half burned down wall. It looked ridiculous that was for sure. The ash just gently glided down like snow.

It took them a while until enough ash had been removed. There was still a thin layer, but not enough to choke on it as previously stated.

Huddled up in their cloaks they fell asleep, with a few grunts which she supposed were the good night wishes. It was cold and her toes were already freezing even tucked into her cloak. What would she give for an opportunity to change into her armour now. Clutching her pouch closer she looked right in front of her where Erador’s back was. He was already asleep from what she knew. Tomorrow they would be on their way again most likely if they couldn’t find the dragonborn at all. Sighing she closed her eyes. Maybe he had forgotten about the argument by tomorrow, one could only hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got revision going on for final year exams and my brother got recently married. Been busy and typing away on the next chapter has been a bit halted to say the least.   
> I hope you guys like it. I'd appreciate some feedback.   
> Shoutout to SarcasticallyDances. I think you will definitely like this update.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I am back! Hope you still check on this story. I am sorry about the wait, however, my university exams did have priority.  
> Hope you enjoy.  
> Please tell me what you think, I appreciate some feedback.  
> The next chapter will be in Erador's view.  
> 

They had been up before dawn, something about the house, it had made her edgy. Turning to one side to another didn’t help nor did sighing. “Stop being so edgy, let me sleep”, he had silently snapped at her at one point. Had she sighed too much or was it simply him sensing her tenseness? Who knew with him? But sleep evaded her ever since the first patrol in the morning had made its way to the house and away. Something was prickling at her senses. Damn her for not being able to say why. She couldn’t even tell whether it was her mind trying to warn her about something or if it was just her mind being overly imaginative. With another sigh, probably her fifth by now, she sat up on her elbows. The others were still sleeping, how she could not understand. Might as well do something useful while they were still in Morthal. Did she need anything? Food?

 

The inn was out of question at the moment. But where else was she supposed to get anything tangible for them to nibble on their travels? Hunting wouldn’t do judging from last time she had killed the rabbit only for the meat to spoil because of the madman in the mountains. Eating berries was just out of question. She didn’t even know half of them and who knew which ones were poisonous. Groaning quietly she sat up properly, running a hand through her hair. Her back was protesting in some places, not even straightening out helped right now. What a great start of the day, that was for sure.

 

What date was it even? What day of the week? It had been the 22nd of Hearthfire, the day after a successful assassination, when she had the unfortunate encounter with him, or not so unfortunate one. Who knew. Just how many days had gone by? Frowning she looked to her side where he was still lying blissfully unaware of her stare. What would she not give to return to sleep right now? But they had stayed for three weeks in Whiterun. Damn it was Frostfall already. It was the 24th of Frostfall… Winter would be upon them soon and if she did not get out of Skyrim soon, they would be stuck there until the border pass to High Rock finally cleared up. Or they would have to sneak through Falkreath to get to Cyrodill.

 

Why was she thinking this all through? She could just ask someone when she was getting food for them. Just no one would be up by now selling food, there was never a market like in Whiterun. Wasn’t there a little alchemy shop right across the Jarl’s house? Maybe she could do a deal to give her some of their food. Shuffling silently, she slowly stood up, her knees creaking. If she left now she might get it done before any of the others awoke. Hopefully, Erador won’t throw a tantrum if he awoke and found her missing. Yawning, she grabbed her dagger, sheathed it. The bow would be safe with Erador, that much she knew and it would kind of re assure him she had not abandoned him here. Even if that would be the best opportunity so far to run.

 

“Where are you going?” she nearly toppled over Erador when a sleepy Fevuril addressed her. Dark elves and their uncanny stealthiness.

 

“How long have you been awake?” she asked in return, turning around to where she heard him speak. He was still huddled up underneath his cloak and weary red eyes blinked up to her.

 

“Not long, just saw you standing up” he yawned and stretched out a bit and moved to sit up on one elbow, “but where are you going?””

 

There was no harm in not telling him, right? After all, he probably will not be interested in her trying to buy poisons. 

 

“I guess we need food and there is an alchemy shop.” His eyes widened and shot up.

“Alchemy shop? I am coming with you!”

 

He flung his cloak away from his legs and tried standing up. She had to chuckle when one of his legs caught the rim and he sat down on his behind again. Silently she put a finger on her lips and jerked her head towards the other bundles of cloaks. He formed an o with his mouth and ducked. Slowly turning towards the open entrance of the house, she saw another guard coming to do his round. Maybe she could ask about Whiterun or the current events on the war. They had been in the mountains for days now. But wouldn’t that be suspicious? Asking after Whiterun after having just arrived and started a bar brawl? Might be best if she just laid low for now. Erador could do that asking, after all he had been the poor sod who had her as a traveling companion.  


“Where is this shop?” Fevuril whispered to her, after he had disentangled himself from his cloak again, his staff in his right hand. A very curious staff, but then again she had only ever seen two staves. Farengar’s and Festus’. She wordlessly pointed towards one of the bigger houses near the Jarl’s seat.

 

“How come I never saw this shop, I am running low on magicka potions and healing potions.”

“Healing potions?” she was confused. Couldn’t he just heal with magic?

“Yes”, he shifted a bit on his feet, “we ran out of them on our journey here.”

“Where did you come from?” now she was curious. After all, they could have been refugees or adventurers for all she knew.

“Somewhere east of Dawnstar,” she furrowed a brow. She was not familiar with the Pale.

“It is on the coast, on route to Winterhold” was his curt explanation.

 

Raising an eyebrow, she looked at him from the side. Teeth clenched and gaze fixed on the ground. Winterhold college, a sore topic it seemed.

 

“I… see” was all she managed. What else was she supposed to say? A shrug and a sigh.

“We left the Pale because a dragon attacked, the whole village got destroyed.”

 

She swallowed, another village. Lately she kept hearing so many more stories about dragon attacks on villages. Alduin kept raising them faster than she could find and kill them. Delphine was no help at all and Paarthurnax would rather have her in the monastery meditating or holding tinvaak with him. Old dragons and their sentimentality sometimes.

 

“That dragon”, swallowing she looked to her side again, no reaction, “how did he look like?”

 

Her shoulders tensed. There were so many dragons, young, ancient, blood, frost, hell, she didn’t know about that until Esbern had told her, explained to her that even dragons have hierarchies.

 

“I didn’t really pay attention with fire raining down on our heads”, he shrugged apologetically. “Why do you want to know?”  There was not much she could tell him there, right? After all, she had only met him yesterday.

 

“I am just curious. Dragons were mere legends and now they are… back. Surely you heard about them being referred to as the bringer of the end times?” Where was she even going with this? Fevuril raised an eyebrow and looked at her for a moment before turning his attention back to the ground.

“Yes the mages in the college had delved into days of research when the first dragon rumour had reached our ears.”

“You were still at the college three years ago?”

“Yes, an apprentice mage, “ he pulled up his right shoulder, “ I didn’t believe it. But Sa…the arch mage thought that we should be prepared nonetheless. All we found were songs and myths, I tell you if I read one more glorified Nord strength I will puke. No solid evidence or accounts on it.”

“Now that you have seen a dragon, what do you think is real from those tales”, maybe if she could get him to talk he would forget she asked for the description of the dragon. What a blunder.

“That they are terrifying for sure, but I thought they would be a bit more scaly.” More scaly? Frowning she looked at him.

“I suppose that was the wrong word, but frankly I would have expected scales on their stomachs and not on their backs.” But there were scales on their bellies, just not as many. She bit her tongue before that telling comment slipped out of her mouth.

“And they talk!” now she couldn’t prevent the rise of her left eyebrow. He had picked up on that?

“I mean, it was only briefly mentioned in one of the more ancient song texts, but we all thought it was only put in there to make the story work. Then that dragon spoke something, it wasn’t a roar or anything, it was speech”, he made a wide hand gesture, she was not sure what it was supposed to mean.

“If I could only find any texts about a dragon language or at least talk to someone well versed with dragons overall! Then I might actually be able to say something. Referring to songs and scripts is just plain stupid and unscientific”, he groaned out. One of the boards beneath their feet creaked, making her flinch involuntarily. That board hadn’t creaked last time she had been there. When had that been? Maybe three months ago?

“I don’t suppose you know anyone who knows more about dragons?” it sounded so hopeful and… earnest. The only ones she knew were the greybeards, the Blades and Farengar. But there was no way she could tell him. No one was supposed to know about the Blades and now Farengar. The Grey beards were too isolated for anyone to seek them out. Or if anyone tried by force, then may Oblivion host them a better afterlife than their deaths.

Shaking her head, she replied, “No, how should I know anyways?”

“I don’t know, connections maybe?” Had she visibly cringed at that? Hopefully not. Connections to where exactly? Underworld, another college or museums?

“And what connections did you think of?” He stopped walking, setting his staff down a bit more forcefully.

“Don’t know, maybe thieves have taken some of the more precious tomes for some crazy old collector or maybe… the Psijic order?” Don’t act suspicious. For all he knew she had no connections to the Thieves guild. She was just a traveler with an infuriating traveling companion. Nothing more and nothing less. But what in Oblivion was the Psijic order? Throwing him a questioning look, he only sighed and looked down again.

“I suppose normal people don’t really hear about the Psijic order except our college”, maybe that was an opportunity to distract him enough to go off on a tangent. Anything else other than dragons.

“What is the Psijic order?”, she asked as she stepped off the boards onto firm ground. The shop was just in front of them.

“I don’t know much, except it is an order from the Sumerset Isle which was chased off by the Thalmor for being too powerful”, he stepped beside her, squinting his eyes at the building in front of them, then added quietly, “maybe the kind of powerful we need to defeat dragons on our own. After all, have you ever heard of the dragonborn ever being where he is supposed to be?”

Her head almost shook instinctively, even when the comment punched her in the gut like a warhammer. Had she neglected her duties to that point that…. Now she felt just sick, of herself.

“Are you all right? You look like you smelled a draugr.”  
“Yes, yes I am fine.”  
“I suppose realizing that a fabled hero can’t do his duties is inconceivable right?” How could she make him shut up without a dagger in his throat?  
“Indeed”, it sounded too garbled, too throaty. Sometimes she could just label herself her biggest traitor.  
“Hmm, maybe you should ask for a stamina potion. You really do not look well.”

Breathing out slowly, she only nodded. No use saying something which he might pick up as fishy. After all an apprentice from the College should be sharp witted as that. At least that was what she thought they should be. She should have gone to the college while she still could have.

“Suppose that is a good idea”, she managed to say. Looked like she really needed that stamina potion, her head was being a bit too light for her taste. This really shouldn’t throw her off course this much though. It had never bothered her before and therefore shouldn’t start now. Stupid feelings, maybe she should just ditch this all and go back to the sanctuary. Or maybe to High Hrothgar, meditate on it all. Just… at high hrothgar, Paarthurnax would urge her to go and get the elder scroll. That she was not ready for. Delphine would be even worse. Her brother and sisters at the sanctuary didn’t even know who she was. When she had first stepped into the sanctuary she had been so… there was no other way to describe it other than completely naive. Lydia had been freshly buried and then out of the blue comes the rumour of a boy doing the black sacrament.

The door to the shop creaked open and a blast of hot air hit her squarely in the face. Someone was or had been brewing a batch of potions lately. If she remembered correctly some reactions heat was emitted or absorbed. Just which ones? Was there a general saying that potions emitted and poisons absorbed? She could ask Fevuril, but she really didn’t want to make the probably bad impression replaced with the idea she was daft.

“What can I do for you?” a woman stepped into her line of sight wiping her hands on her apron. So she had been the one doing the potions. If she wiped her hands then it was probably a poison she had been brewing. Skeever poison by the sharp itching smell. Scrunching her nose up slightly, she paused a bit. Should she let Fevuril speak first or should she. Looking to her side, he had his eyes transfixed on a certain shelf on the wall lined with potions. Not that she had any idea about bottle conventions. Turning her attention back to the woman who had an irritated frown,

“I am looking for a stamina potion, do you have anything?” the woman’s hands let the apron fall back to its place.

“Have to see, just sit down. Really don’t need you fainting on my floor”, it was curt accompanied with a wide gesture to a chair at the other end. She eyed the chair, it looked like it would break if she even just breathed. Tentatively she lowered herself on it. At least it didn’t creak just yet or wobble for that matter. The woman whose name still evaded her, walked towards Fevuril “state your business and stop ogling my wares.”

He flinched visibly and for a brief moment she felt some sort of sympathy for him. She supposed he never really had to deal with the roughness of Skyrim’s merchants.

“I am simply looking for some health and magicka potions”, his voice was even. As if he hadn’t even been faced with the harsh reprimand. She should talk to him more often, he seemed a bit more sane than any other court wizards.

“Health potions aye, no magicka”, at that he deflated.  
“Do you have Mora Tapinella?”

“Yes. “

“Do you have… creep clusters?” Was he listing ingredients? Surely he would not consider brewing it himself?

“Yes.”

“Potentially white cap?”

“No.”

“Those will do. I can pay for them if you are willing to let me use your station?” The woman gaped openly.

“Who in Oblivion do you think you are? Are you even capable of not blowing it up?”

“I am a full fledged apprentice of the Winterhold college, yes I am versed in the art of mixing these two ingredients together to form a basic magicka potion. How much for say a pound of each?”

The woman raised an eyebrow and squinted.

“No one can afford it.”

“I am sure we can come to an agreement, after all you will not be the one to craft the potion.”

“No, but I cannot use the station while you are using it. Bad for business.”

“But…”

“That means you need to compensate me for using my station. Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course” Ayera could not help but flinch. He should not have conceded on that point. Bartering was probably not something an apprentice of the College was taught. He was going to get steam rolled over like a centurion. Nothing much even she could do. Maybe however….

“How much would you be prepared to do it for?”

The woman whirled around to her and fixed her with a hawk like stare.

“You?” It was slow and dripping in disbelief. Clenching her teeth, she smiled back.  
“I have coin, I could chip in”, she sent a small smile towards Fevuril. Hopefully, he considered it encouraging. A huff from the woman was all she got.

“No, this is not how it works”, the shopkeep replied sharply.

“I do not need coin. What I need is something else.” Surely she needed coin, right? Think, what else could she need?

“I am in need of someone going out and collecting carnis roots for me and potentially swamp fungals”, oh no. She had no bloody clue how those actually looked like.

“What about my stamina potion?” maybe she could get that and then somehow get her to accept the money then. But if she needed ingredients more than money then… what kind of trading environment was this? When had she been here the last time? A year ago? Maybe longer?

“150 gold”, that was way too much for a stamina potion. Way too much. That also would be almost all of her money which was left from Whiterun. She shouldn’t have relocated all that money to the sanctuary in Dawnguard for Nazeem to restore the brotherhood. At least they managed to make the structure a bit more warm. The first few days had been so cold. Grumbling she pulled her pouch out and looked through. It would eat up almost all of her funds. Was she absolutely sure she still needed it? Sure enough she didn’t really feel like she could run and jump around as usual. But shouldn’t that temporary weakness pass soonish? But then again, going out into the marshes not entirely in the best condition was lethal. Grumbling she reached for her pouch and counted 150 gold into the shop keep’s waiting hand.

“Thank you” the potion got shoved into her hand. A tiny bottle really, far too overpriced. Her pouch was too light and to think that they probably will be going around Skyrim for a while before he either will realise who she is or she would tell him. Nothing which seemed likely in the near future. Maybe a quick trip to Dawnguard and get a contract? But that would mean going into Stormcloak territory and potentially going into another Stormcloak hold. Biting her lip, she watched how the woman shoved the gathering basket into Fevuril’s hands. Even if that would have been no problem, how could she explain a short trip to Dawnguard, going somewhere and then back? Not at all. He was way too cunning not to fall for such a simple ploy. Uncorking it and swallowing the meager contents she waited for the familiar electrifying feeling. It came, slowly spreading to her limbs. Her strength returned with it. Fevuril was waiting for her at the door.

“You don’t have to come with me, it will be just ingredient gathering.” Had he any idea how treacherous Skyrim and swamps were? Let alone all those two combined? Such naivety.

“I want to a walk in the morning usually clears the head of prior misfortune” she emphasized the misfortune part. Maybe being away and not having to deal with Erador moodiness for a while would do her some good.

“I… see” he didn’t look too convinced. Too bad, for once she told him the truth.

“Do you have an idea where we have to go?”

“No, I was hoping you would know.”  
“No clue where to find fungal pods or those carnis roots.”

“Well, what is the swampiest area in this all?”

She frowned at him. Everything around Morthal was swamp, surely there could not be a scale of swampiness.

“I don’t know. Only ever came twice to Morthal before and only on the roads.” Which were kind of the only reliable way to get into this hold capital anyway.

“Would have thought that adventurers would be more drawn to Morthal.” What was that supposed to mean? Maybe he assumed she was an adventurer with that armor. Probably could work to her advantage if she just played her cards right.

“Why?”

“There are tales of dead guarding treasures and surely mercenaries would be drawn to a constant bounty on the wild life with no walls, you know.”

“I see.” Undead in the open daylight? Impossible.

“Honestly I cannot understand why people don’t bother building a wall around Morthal, with the war going on. Surely Morthal will fall with no means of a real defense?”

“War needs supplies and I think the Empire is losing, so they are out of resources I’d wager or cannot spare the man power to build one.”

“I understand, but I would have thought that the Empire would at least know this notion of shoring up defenses.”  
They stepped on the stone bridge leading back to the way she had come from. Hopefully there were no more mercenaries, after all, she only had her dagger with her not her bow. Of course she could ask him to wait and get it quickly, but Erador was there and she certainly didn’t want to see him right now. Let him stew for a while. Could also never hurt to scout the surroundings out. After all, might be they will have to flee again soonish. Who knew what Ulfric would do next, after he had Whiterun.

“Well, considering they are pretty much cut off from the Empire with the Mountains and Falkreath being in the same state as Morthal for supply runs and the port in Solitude I’d say they are pretty much cut off. And the Stormcloaks have the advantage of home turf and resources. Most iron mines are in Stormcloak territory and Markarth has only silver and maybe an Orcish metal mine in the Reach but that is it.”

“In Winterhold we had a tiny mine, suppose the only thing really keeping us…them alive there.”

“Winterhold has not recovered from the collapse?”

“No, which is a shame, there was so much history and pride and they all got bitter about the Collapse and blame the College. Even 80 years after it happened, the culprits are most likely dead so what is the point.”

“Nords can hold a grudge.”

“Not just the Nords, also the Thalmor.”  
“They don’t have a grudge, they just want world domination.”  
“Speaking from experience?” She had only met a few and that had been enough. Ondolemar was nice enough, but he would probably roast her if he only had a hunch she was a Talos worshipper. Elenwen was no different except it was an open secret that she enjoyed torture. To think she might have instigated this whole civil war according to the ledgers from the embassy. Oh no… the ledgers! They were still in Whiterun, most likely being read already. Oh no, there was a file on her. Ulfric would have some intelligence on her. Why hadn’t she burned them the first chance she had gotten? Why had she thought bringing those to Sky Haven temple would be a good idea and then not doing it because Delphine decided to be as bad as them?

Crap. She had to fuck everything up. Think, what would happen if Ulfric got his paws on her file? What did it say again? She couldn’t even remember. Had it mentioned any possibility of her multiple identities? Because if it did and Ulfric being the paranoid prick that he was, he might take it as the blank truth and make the connections. He would know a lot more about her movement profiles. She would never really be able to get to Dawnstar in the open again. Only through sneaking and only if she stayed in the sanctuary. Not that it really mattered, but if something were to happen and they needed a ship, the guards will know her face and the possibility of her multiple identities. One of escape routes gone. Shit. Solitude harbor might be one of the only ship route options now. Markarth only through the mountains and Falkreath mountains. All that mattered now was what Ulfric was going to conquer first. Falkreath or Morthal?

“Hey watch where you step! Not really keen on pulling you out of a swamp hole.” Oh right, he was still there. Turning to him, she was greeted with a raised eyebrow and an amused expression.

“Missing the guy you were with?” She flinched violently. There was no way in oblivion she would miss him and frankly, she could run now. Forget about her weapons and just run and hide. Maybe go to the Grey beards, learn more about Shouts and just then accept to do what she was apparently chosen for from birth.

“You are doing it again, you sure you don’t want to go back and tell him how much you miss him and you kiss?” What? No, they would never do that again. It wasn’t even nice, not at all. She didn’t need it again and he probably forgot about it anyways. Stupid Thalmor and their machinations. Who knows with those. Kicking a stone against a tree, she turned to Fevuril fully now.

“I am merely thinking.”

“You don’t say”, she grit her teeth. _Do not kill the wizard_.

“Is it really him?” At that she could shake her head and it was after all the truth.

“Oh, is there something you want to talk about?”

“Why did you leave the College? I heard” swallowing she decided to stick her hand into the bee hive, “what happened.”

“That it got destroyed?” She only nodded.

“That is true.”

“Ulfric?”

“Is that what they say?”

“Yes, who else?”

“I am surprised word about this got out. I am pretty confident I am the only survivor.”

“Why do you say no one else survived?”

“I saw the teachers die, surely no apprentice could ever flee then”, he looked down and set his staff down more forcefully than necessary.

“But aren’t you an apprentice too?” she motioned to his yellowish tunic. Farengar had once told her the colour convention in the college as she had implied going there at one point. Maybe she should have, certainly would have helped her not blow some plates up trying out new spells or saved some of Lydia’s eyebrows.

“I was elevated to the status of adept a moon before the… you know. Also it is the only set of clothes I actually own.” He stopped and looked at the ground frowning.

“Here is one root” he moved some dirt away with his boot and revealed a brownish root sticking out. Didn’t look like an alchemy ingredient to her, but who was she to say? Shrugging she watched him bend down and just looked at it. What now?

“How are you going to get it out?”

“The ground is frozen I cannot just rip it out… Can I borrow your dagger?” Startled she closed her right hand around the dagger’s handle. Never give your weapon to another. She shook her head. He sighed, “Why not?”

Her throat closed up. Surely he meant no harm. Just her hand wouldn’t loosen its grip on the handle, it just tightened.

“Well, if you don’t want to part with your weapon could you do it please?” Fevuril sighed and motioned for the root with his hands.

“You have to dig around a bit to loosen the earth, it is after all frozen in the layers underneath.” Wouldn’t that mean that her dagger would lose its sharpness? Even if it was a daedric artifact in a sense, she was not really keen on risking blunting the blade while on the run from an advancing “liberator”. She would have thought though that a mage would have at least a dagger on them. At least the mages she had encountered had daggers on them, sometimes poisoned sometimes enchanted.

“You don’t have a dagger on you?” He shook his head.

“There has never really been a need for that, after all I can do magic”, was there a tone of indignation there?

“I can do magic too and I still have a bow and dagger.”

“Maybe it works out for you, but I cannot.”

“Have you tried?”

“Never needed to. Elves are after all more adept at being mages than warriors. Also, I think the schools of magic are far superior than the hack and slash all those sword fights are”, he sniffed. Sighing, she bent down and looked at the root. No use arguing really. Did they need the bit out of the earth as well?

“What are you waiting for?”  
“What needs to be taken out?”  
“By Azura, if possible the whole thing!”

Whatever… she stabbed the dagger into the ground. Ground wasn’t frozen, just very firm. No one ever really walked or turned the earth during the years. How could he not know that? She wiggled the dagger a bit more and grasped the top bits of the roots. She pulled gently. Seemed to be not lodged in so tightly, quite frankly, she didn’t even have to use her dagger for this. Smirking she yanked it out and dumped it into the basket.

“So, the ground’s not frozen?”

“Obviously.”  
Sighing he bend down and looked at the root.  
“It is small, I don’t know what the shop keep was thinking sending us out while the carnis root is still in its growth stage.” So their entire errand was for nothing? Why were they still here then? The others might be worrying right now. Who knew? Erador certainly would tear the village up and from what she had seen from yesterday Fevuril and Sven were friends, so Sven would be on Erador’s heel or vice versa. Either way, there would be an earful coming from both of them. Once they wake up which might not be for a while. Was it too late to turn back and just forget about his potions? Surely he didn’t those right now… hopefully.

“Do you really need those potions?”

“Excuse me? I need them, how can you say that? Aren’t you a magic user as well?” Well not to the point she was dependent on any of those magicka potions. Dagger and bow were a better method than to wait and hide for your magicka pool to return.

“I am, but I have other things to fall back onto in case” she jerked her head in direction of her dagger.

“I see, anyways, can we just get this over with? I rather…” an arrow whizzed past his head and landed with a loud thunk into the nearest tree. Sithis, not again. Fevuril had whirled around and stared at a group of trees,  
“What…” he didn’t even get to finish the sentence when another arrow flew out and only throwing himself down saved him from getting an arrow to the chest.

Ayera pressed herself quickly to the ground and grabbed Fevuril’s cloak and tugged on it.

“We gotta move, find cover. Whoever is firing has a bad aim.” That was for sure, missing a stationary target took some skill in failing archery.

“Where the hell do you see any cover here?!” he snapped.

“Trees, you idiot!”

With that she jumped up and dashed over to the big tree closest to her and huddled around its back between two big protruding roots. Moments later, Fevuril threw himself right behind her and curled up tightly.

“We will have to move soon again, the archer won’t let up”, propping herself up on one knee she peaked slowly around the tree trunk. All seemed like normal except for the arrows sticking in the ground and the tree trunk. Sloppy aim indeed. Was there something she could hear? Maybe leather or some metal on metal crunching like with the typical steel armor. It was all silent except there was this gnashing sound. It seemed familiar, she had heard it, but it must have been years ago. Her hair stood on end. Swallowing she kept her eyes trained in the general direction the noise came from. The sound kept tugging at some memory years ago. Somewhere in a dungeon, but that would mean… undead, bone moving on bone. What was an undead doing out here?! In the open swamp? What was this?

“Undead”, she whirled back down to Fevuril and the only response was a confused glare. Sometimes a hit to the head cured daftness. Before she could however even raise her hand to smack him, he reached up with a shaking hand.

  
“Undead?” he whispered. She glowered at him. Had he not heard her correctly?! Sighing in frustration she racked her memory, did that sound like a draugr? Skeleton maybe? She had no damn clue but she was not sticking around! Run back to Morthal, hope that the basket hasn’t lost all of its components and get a tankard of mead. Good plan, now how in Oblivion was she to drag a shivering mage with her?

“Run and do not look back” she hissed in his direction.

“What?!”

“Are you deaf? Follow me and run as fast as you can, do not look back.” She mostly felt the nod than saw it, then she was off with footsteps offset to hers a bit behind her. Good, some intelligence had returned to him. How did he even manage to survive in Skyrim?! By Sithis…. Mages and their obliviousness.

Which way did they even come from? There were only trees as far as she could see and by her estimation they should have already reached the bridge. Oh no no, they haven’t gotten lost now have they? Where was a map when she needed one? Damn, she could take on a lesser draugr with a dagger but anything more powerful she was pretty much defenseless. Draugr shouts were painful when they were able to do those. Where in Oblivion was she again?! Another arrow flew past her face. Other direction then, she sprinted past a tree wrapping her hand around the front. Her forward momentum swung her sidewards and to the back of the tree. Her feet tangled up and she fell ungracefully to her knees. Shit, the trees still looked the same.

“Why are you on the ground?!” someone shrieked behind her. Oh, he had manage to keep up. More than most could say probably. Her head swam as she got on her feet again, then Fevuril suddenly barreled past her, yelling nonsense. Or whatever “guardian circle” meant. She took after him trying to catch up with him. Maybe it could get itself stuck on a root? Get caught and fall on its nose? Or non-existing nose, whatever. What she would give for her bow now.

They were still running, Fevuril in front of her, how he had not dropped his staff yet she did not know. Her dagger was still in her hands? Hands flew to her hips on instinct trying to feel the familiar shape and weight of her dagger. It was suspiciously light. Her hands were on her clothes, no weapon. She had not snatched it up at all when diving for cover and completely forgotten about it. To Sithis with this all, they had nothing except magic and she rather not rely on something as fickle as magic. Turning around though was no option either, hopefully no one found her dagger.

They were still running, her sides were starting to hurt, needles digging into her sides until Fevuril got a grinding halt just in front of her. What in Oblivion is he thinking?! Before she could however yell at him, he fell sidewards to a tree. Panting heavily he looked to her, the red of his pupils nearly gone.

“I have no idea where we are and we have an undead on our heels.” She glared at him. Did he really feel the need to state the facts to her?

“I know, keep going”, she hadn’t meant it to sound so rough.

“What else are we to do anyways?”, did he just get sarcastic with her? Taking a deep breath, she looked around. _Do not kill the mage_ _…._. The sun was past its noon position already, not that it told her much, the days were getting shorter after all. What could they do? Hide and hope it turned its back on them? The tree roots were big enough, but what was their distance advantage now and were there more? If yes hiding would be their definite death sentence. What to do? What to do? Her hands went up into her hair grasping the roots of her hair. Not that it would help much, but who knew? Taking another deep breath she strained her ears for the tell tale gnashing of bones every undead had so far in her experience. Nothing… no there it was. Faint, but there. They had to go further. Stumbling forward she grabbed Fevuril’s cloak, tiredly tugging at it.

“What? I need to catch my breath”, he snapped at her.

“I hear it.”  
“How can you hear it? You are a Breton!”, suppressing a flinch she tugged again. No one was to suspect that she was part elf, if one lie was unraveled which one would be the next one? Too much risk in that.  
“One who has survived longer in Skyrim than you probably”, she retorted.  
“I lived here all my life”, they had no time for this.  
“Ever delved into draugr infested ruins?”  
“No?” She could already hear the next question, how come you of all people did?  
“Then shut up and keep up.”


	16. Chapter 16

His headache reached a new level when Sven asked the next guard in their sights, “Have you seen a dark elf and a Breton woman recently?” and his only answered with a blank stare.

“This is obviously not working”, Erador had commented at one point. Had it been hours ago or just moments? One could never tell with idiots.

“Well it is the only way we can actually tell where they went” was the simultaneous snarky response from both Sven and Bjorn.

Might as well, the sooner he found Ayera they could be on their way again without any unpleasant interruptions again and preferably her armor and weapons. When they had woken up and found the other two of them missing with her armor still there they had initially assumed they were off to get food. But then the waiting turned to hours and his gut had already had a nervous twitch when he didn’t see Ayera in the morning. Now it had gotten to the point of headache inducing and pins and needles in his stomach area. Something was up and he had no idea what it was. Pinching his nose didn’t help either. What he would give for a healing potion at the moment….

“Uhm…” that annoying little Nord again, what was his name again? Bjorn? Probably, didn’t matter after today he and Ayera were gone and those idiots far behind them.

“What?” he asked, which earned him an annoyed side glance from Sven. How this guy even tolerated the other one was beyond him. An annoyingly screeching background noise like any other Nords in this Auriel forsaken province. No wonder they always had scrunched up faces.

“Some guard said he saw them walking over the bridge with a basket earlier on” Bjorn proceeded to point in the general direction of the bridge.

“Well, they could be anywhere there!” useless information.

“No, I can read tracks”, and tomorrow he would be the king of the Sumerset Isles. Snorting he turned to Sven, ready to suggest a full on search party… when this imbecile spoke up again.

“Go on then, Bjorn. Better than nothing I suppose”, did he just really indulge in this simpleton’s idea of tracking in a swamp? The mud would have shifted so that any footprints would be gone now.

“The footprints are most likely…” he tried to reason.

“You have any better ideas, elf?” breathe. It is just a Nord. A lowly Nord he would never see after this. Focus on that.

“If we all just went where we think they went, we will get lost. Does anyone really know their way in those swamps?” his headache decided to spike at this point. By Auriel, if any of those goofs decided to speak up again, he will shock them.

“No, but there are ways to insure we can go back.”

“Such as?” he could feel his intelligence dwindling every second. Ayera was not that daft at least and she was a Breton, that was saying something.

“Rocks,” was he supposed to understand what that was supposed to mean? But apparently Sven seemed to get an idea. Seemed like idiots thought the same way.

“You are suggesting we put down rocks as a way to point us back?” at least he sounded as skeptical as he currently felt about that method. Rocks were just too plain and easy to miss.  How badly he wanted to just shoot lightning at someone. Unfortunately that was frowned upon in Skyrim… in the most parts at least.

Bjorn balled his hands into fists and snapped back:”Oh? What else do you suggest, huh? We do not have a handy mage with that blue glowing thing which somewhat points the way.”

Hang on… blue glowing thing showing the way and… He was an idiot himself. How could he have forgotten?! Clairvoyance… Of course, he should be a Nord not an Altmer with the way this was going already. No dragonborn, a Breton ally who he couldn’t really put a finger on what his exact thoughts were on her, now these buffons and he was losing his edge already. How he was still sane was a miracle. Ayera would hear his piece of mind about leaving him once he found her again. Pinching the bridge of his nose again, he looked at the other two staring each other down.

“Good for us, I know the clairvoyance spell” he growled out while holding his right hand up.

“Oh right it was the clairvoyant spell” one of these days he would commit mass murder if all of those Nords were like bjorn, “the mighty elf finally decides to regale us with his superiority!”

Gritting his teeth, he tried to picture Ayera in his mind. Blue tendrils shot out his hand, pointing towards the bridge. Shouldering his backpack and Ayera’s bow, he stepped forward towards the bridge and kept going.

  
“At least that works better than your rocks, Bjorn”, Sven quipped and followed Erador. Both didn’t see the rude gesture Bjorn made at them.   
“How was I supposed to know he would pull out magic out of his arse?!”  
“He is an elf, as you pointed out earlier. Kinda obvious, isn’t it?” can’t both of them just shut up so he could concentrate? Ayera’s face was wobbly at best with them bickering. Blue eyes, black hair, a near constant frown, a scar above her left eyebrow, too small of a nose for her face. The tendrils wobbled, losing their intensity and then sputtered back.

“You two, shut up!” he growled after the up tenth time the tendrils couldn’t develop past his hand. They immediately shut up, gaping at him.   
“Did you just tell us to shut up?” Bjorn hissed.   
“Yes, I am trying to concentrate here”, he snapped back.   
“Oh, can’t block us out?”  
“Bjorn, just let the man be.”  
“He is no man, he is an elf.”

Gritting his teeth, he focused on her face again. This time the tendrils flowed past his hand pointing in the previous direction.

“Well, looks like we are going that way”, Sven cheerily quipped and stomped past him and Bjorn. How someone could even pretend to be so cheerful with such a brat escaped his mind? Sighing he followed where his magicka was pointing towards Ayera. Hopefully she hadn’t landed herself in trouble again. But, he would be very surprised if she hadn’t. Who in their right mind went into the swamps with just someone else for an errand?

The spell took them over several tree stumps, little puddles and through densely packed tree groups with gnarled branches. Several times one of those branches got caught in his cloak, face or even hair. He was pretty sure the other two were not faring any better with the occasional yelp from either of them if a branch snapped or one snapped into their faces. Not that he cared, all he needed right now was breakfast and yell at Ayera. Stupid breton… in even more stupid Skyrim.

Right now he could care less if dragons decimated every single town or settlements in it, all of the inhabitants were insane to even want to live here. Too cold, nothing to even get out of the ground and culturally speaking most of the people here were barbarians. Nothing much would be lost if they were to secede from the Empire. If he could leave it soon, it would be the best day of his life so far.

They trudged over another rock formation, the tendrils suddenly changed direction. Frowning he turned where they were pointing now.

“Look at this”, there was no mocking this time in Bjorn’s tone. He let go of his magicka, the tendrils dissolving in the air. Taking a breath, he turned to Bjorn who was crouched over something on the ground.

“It is an arrow”, Sven turned to him and shrugged. What was so important… oh no, he knew Ayera could never ever stay out of trouble.

“Not any arrow, Sven, this is an ancient one.” And that was to tell them what exactly? Frowning he looked back to Sven, he would most likely be as confused as he was. Sven however l had his mouth shut tightly and a fist against his forehead.

“So you are telling me there are draugr around?”

“What else am I telling you?” there was the usual Bjorn back. And what in Auriel’s name were draugr?!

“Draugr?”

“Undead. Quite nasty.”

Undead? What else? Giant spiders? He had to get Ayera, stupid Breton got in way over her head this time. Focusing on her face again, he summoned his magicka again.

“What are you doing?”

“What it looks like, getting us to them!”, and this time he ran where the tendrils showed him. It might be that he heard footsteps behind him, but right now he could care less if they were able to keep up at the moment.

He supposed he heard the undead before he saw the monstrosity that had its back to him. Not that it mattered, he ran straight into it, pummeling it into the ground, his sword already being ripped out of its sheath. The blade made a wide arc up before it came down separating the head from the body. A dull thump was heard and the corpse underneath him stopped twitching. Looking up he saw the two missing idiots. Both had their eyes wide open, lightning was crackling around Ayera’s fingers and frost swirls in Fevuril’s. At least they hadn’t released when he ran in… breathing heavily he shifted his focus to Ayera. She was still as a statue, he looked to Fevuril, maybe he had more coherent thoughts than her…

Something wet and slimy hit the side of his face. His eyes snapped shut in reaction. Slowly he reached up to the side and wiped at whatever was sticking to it off. Only parts of it came off, whatever it was. Slowly opening his eyes again he looked down on his hand. Wet dirt with a bit of the grass which grew here sticking in between the clumps of earth. Someone of those idiots had grabbed a handful of earth and threw it in his face. He blinked.

Of all things which could have have happened, he got dirt thrown in his face? What… Fevuril just had his mouth hanging open, it looked really comical and he should really laugh, but his muscles wouldn’t obey him except for facing Ayera whose face was contorted in fury. What the hell had he done now?! Hadn’t he just saved her from this, whatever this thing was he was sitting on?! Loud footsteps were heard from behind and not a moment later, the two he had apparently left behind in his sprint finally had caught up.

“What is in your face?” Bjorn gasped out, leaning his hands on his knees. His mouth wouldn’t obey him, the yelling he had envisioned he would give Ayera was completely gone from his mind now. He probably looked like a complete and utter fool gaping at her too. Her face was still twisted in fury, but now she was openly snarling at him too. Now, if either of them could talk, he might know what he had done now! Or whatever her petty mind had conjured up with. One would think that saving her wouldn’t make her angry at him, quite frankly he would have thought it would be the opposite! Women…..

“You absolute… moron!”, she yelled suddenly. He flinched, as the loud yell disrupted their silent staring at each other situation. A moron… he, a moron?! She was the one who walked into the swamp alone with someone she had only met yesterday and she dared called him a moron?!

“What in Auriel’s name am I a moron for?!”

“You ran in when we were about to release!” That was her problem? Squinting his eyes at her, he only could shake his head at her. That he ran in and killed it when they were about to blast it with spells? Really? Had she hit her head?

“You are welcome for saving you!” maybe she would get the hint? Maybe, no?

“We had it under control!” Fevuril started coughing , but he didn’t pay him any attention. Right now this breton was the most annoying and insufferable person he had the misfortune of knowing. If she wasn’t that valuable to his mission, he would have killed her long ago. Maybe with lightening, making her taste her own medicine. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his hand again to continue wiping the grime off his face.

“Does it really matter if you had it under control? That… thing is dead.”

“Well it was or is an undead, you sure it can die again?”

“Don’t get technical with me!”

“What I am getting at is, how can you kill something when it is already dead?”

“That is technical….”

“No no, how are we sure that cutting the head off will be effective in putting it to rest?”

“Oh, so you mean that… it could come back without a head?”

“Yes.”

“Then why is it not moving anymore?”

“I didn’t mean immediately, what I am trying to say is that we need to burn the body.”

“And start a forest fire?”

“A fire in the swamp? Really…”, Sven glowered at Bjorn, “Explain to me how a fire would set fire to puddles.” He crossed his arms and jerked his head to where Erador was sitting on the corpse.

“A fire would probably jump to the trees and grow from there! Wet wood will mean smoke, we would need to leg it out of here if we follow up with your idea.”

“If you have a better idea, then share it!” Bjorn sighed.

“We burn it….”

“That is what I said!”

“Not here, woodhead! We find a clearing and burn it there.”

“And how is that going to prevent a forest fire?”

Erador could only shake his head at the bickering and turned his head back to Ayera, whose expression had somewhat softened. But he was not sure if he would get another clump of dirt in his face.

“Ayera…” her gaze immediately snapped to him. “What?”

“You left your bow in Morthal.” She blinked several times, before she responded with “Oh…uhm, I guess I did.” He began to unclasp the bow from his back when Fevuril stepped forward and poked the corpse he was still sitting on with his staff.

“Not sure that is a draugr.”

That statement made the two others stop arguing and frown at him.

“What do you mean that is no draugr?”

“Exactly what I just said, that thing is not a draugr.”

“What makes you say that?” Sven and Bjorn exchanged confused looks.

“First, draugr are from the era when dragons still roamed Tamriel and this one I am fairly certain is not from that era.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, look, this type of tunic that one is wearing?” Erador looked down, wobbly stood up and moved towards Ayera’s side. The tunic Fevuril was referring to was tattered, ripped and lost nearly all of its colour.

“What of it?”

“See that symbol over there?” Fevuril pointed to a brownish patch near the right arm of the corpse. It looked a lot like a dirt patch but now that it was pointed out, he was able to see a pattern. An awfully familiar one.

“The Stormcloak symbol?”

“Yes, this corpse is ages too late for the dragon era. A stormcloak who died and somehow got reanimated.”

“Stormcloaks here?” Ayera finally spoke up again. Her face was white, whiter than should be considered normal. Erador tentatively took a step closer to her. He still had no idea what she actually wanted. One time she appreciates what he did, but other times she rages and even throws dirt in his face.

“I take it you are not a supporter of that movement?”

“I…yes, I am no supporter.”

“Ah well, don’t blame you”, Fevuril said, poking the corpse again, rolling it on its back.

“What I am more concerned about is that the stormcloaks are here already”, Sven made a hand movement towards the corpse.

“I wouldn’t say so, the body is way too decayed to be recently. And the conquest of Whiterun is like what, nearly a week ago now? No, this one has been here for a very long while.”

“What would a stormcloak do so far away from their comrades?”

“No idea, right now we can only speculate, but whatever revived it, needs to be investigated.”

At this Erador could only gape. Has this whole group gone utterly insane? Going after a necromancer in this swamp? One they all had no idea where they were currently and night might descend shortly? He should grab Ayera and go back to Morthal. Those buffoons could risk their lives all day if they wanted, but he was not going to take that risk. The dragonborn and his only way to her was Ayera and she had a stupidly annoying habit of getting herself nearly killed in acts of heroism. Just as he was about to turn to her and grab her around the shoulder, her hand descended on his forearm.

“Fevuril, do you know of any crypts around here?”

“Why would you ask?”

“Because I once read the book I think you were mentioning.”

“Amongst the draugrs?”

“Yes that one.”

“What do you have in mind”, Fevuril leaned forward on his staff wearing a genuinly interested expression on his face.

“Well, from I understood from it, dragonpriests can transfer some sort of life to the draugr, keeping them alive and all to serve and protect the tomb.”

“Go on.”

“What if there was such a tomb nearby?”

“Would be plausible, but I would say that there is a necromancer going around is more a probable scenario here.”

“It might be, but the swamps around Morthal are known for lost structures of the dragon era. So it is not that highly unlikely.” Erador only gaped at the two of them. Their wits had already left them, it seemed. Going after a necromancer was insane enough.

But whatever a dragonpriest was, he was certainly not keen on finding out what it meant, especially in regards to his health. It was bad enough there were dragons now, but a dragonpriest? Was that a dragon who was a priest? Had dragons even a culture? Or was it some culture in Skyrim which thought it would be more fitting to add a dragon to the priest title? Insane those people in Skyrim, too mad for his tastes.

“Are we seriously….”

“Of course we are!” Bjorn snapped at him. “I heard about the famous elven cowardice, but to witness it… How you won the Great War, escapes me.” Erador clenched his unoccupied hand into fists. That was it, that Nord is going to die. Tightening his grip on his sword he made to move forward, when Ayera firmly clasped his right forearm, the arm which held the sword. He made to shake her off until she spoke up,

“I think we all are on the run from Ulfric either way. If this swamp can kill a stormcloak and maybe turn it against their own, who am I to put a stop to that?”

This time it was Sven’s and Bjorn’s turn to turn and gape at her.

“Are you suggesting that we let whatever it is which raises those corpses to roam free?!”

“Yes.”

“What about the people in Morthal? Do you really think those things will just stop because we want them to kill stormcloaks exclusively?!”

“Who said that this was a thing we all were doing? You can go. I won’t be joining.”

“For a Breton you sure are every bit a high elf. I am ashamed to have you part of mankind.”

Ayera only shrugged. How did that not face her at all? Didn’t he just fling the worst insult in the eyes of men into her face. Sven shifted from one foot to another while Fevuril seemed very interested in the ground. They seemed very indecisive, so it was true then most likely. Most of them were on the run from Ulfric. What Nords had to fear from him though was something which escaped his grasp though. Aren’t they particularly favoured to the point it was just comical?

“I do not care for your petty insults, Nord. All I know is that if I were to go after a dragonpriest my survival chances are very much nonexistent and if we were to deal with a necromancer…” she paused and threw a withering glare to Bjorn, “and we all died to him, we would be new fodder for him. However, we have better weapons, better gear. We would be endangering Morthal more by going after it rather than leaving and making sure precautions on Morthal’s side are taken.”

“So you would take the chance of an undead army?”

“Surely the Stormcloaks can deal with a few undead.”

“But didn’t you just say that the purpose was to kill them?”

“No no no, slow them down yes, maybe cost them a bit of men and morale. Killing the entire army is impossible.”

“Then what is the point? Slowing them down by what? Maybe a night maybe even not that!”

“Doesn’t matter, as long as they are slowed down. People can flee in the meantime or once they have Morthal they will be occupied sorting that problem out when they want to establish their supply routes. You know how important supply routes and caravans are to the front.”

The grin she flashed Bjorn made him straighten out his spine. It was frightening, sweet, condescending and he had a feeling she just wanted to have Stormcloak blood spilled. Swallowing he could only look at her. He had seen what she was capable of, with that woman she had mercilessly murdered in that room in Dragonsreach. Or that guy who had dragged her behind that house during the riot. But he really did not want to know what was going through her mind in this instance. Bjorn didn’t respond, he only held her glare. Those two would never get along, he could already tell that.

“I will be going to Morthal, there is a mage who can do the necessary steps. I will not going somewhere I do not even know what will be there or if there is something to be found in the first place.”

She turned to him and he had to swallow, those blue eyes were ice cold.

“From where did you come from?” he could only numbly lift his arm and point towards the direction he had come from. Even if, he could still use clairvoyance again. What the others did now was not going to concern them anymore.

“Go and be cowards, when we return we will have sorted this all out and you will see how much of cowards you are!”

“Bjorn…” this time Fevuril spoke up, “this undead, he was immune to most of my spells, even the repellent ones. I will be useless in that fight.”

“What?” Bjorn’s eyes were wide open while Fevuril still stared straight to the ground.

“You heard me, my spells were useless. If there are more undead, I would be dragging you all down, a liability as you once said.”

“But…”  
“He is right, you know? A fool’s errand with all things considered”, Sven finally said, “I don’t like it any more than you do Bjorn, but we need more people and a better idea what we are dealing with first. Just running in and hoping for the best is a sure way of dying.”

“Are you on my side or theirs?” Bjorn pointed his finger into Ayera’s direction. She hasn’t moved to leave yet and Erador was not about to make the first move. He would rather not have all that tension on him at the moment.

“I am on neither side. But I rather live for another day and fight battles I know I can win.”

“You are no Nord.”

“This has nothing to do with being a Nord. I want to live that is all.”

“Fine, you won this one. But mark my words, you all will regret this!” Erador could only roll his eyes at that. How would they regret that? Surely knowing they would not run straight into immediate danger was a good sign? Or were those Nords even more out of their minds than he already thought? Quite possible because after all they believed mankind could ascend to godhood. Fools that they were. Ayera moved now, marching forwards wordlessly. When Erador didn’t follow her immediately she turned only for a second frowning at him. His feet moved as if they had their own will and that was not his. She just kept marching on and he wondered if she knew the way back, but that couldn’t possibly be… but what was predictable about this person anyways?

He had to speed up for a short bit to walk next to her and lean down to her ear, “Do you actually know the way back?” She turned her head slowly to him and he was surprised to see an amused grin.

“I actually don’t” she whispered, “but how else would we have ever left before nightfall?”

“True”, he turned around to see where the others were. Sven was walking behind them, crossed arms and a grumpy expression on his face, Fevuril next to him, looking the same but more distant.

“Fev?” Ayera spoke up after several moments.

“Yes?”

“I think we can forget about the ingredients basket for today.”

Erador frowned. Ingredients? What was going on? Fevuril seemed to share his confusion until, “Oh, yes yes, I think we left the basket where we first got shot.”

“Doesn’t matter, we need to get back before nightfall. I do not want to know what is in the swamps past sunlight.”

 Neither did any of them except for Bjorn, who was probably walking behind Sven, he couldn’t really be bothered to see if he was following them.

 

They arrived back in Morthal when the sun was about to set. Usually he would have stopped and looked at the sunset, like at home. For once he didn’t have to chase, rescue or think of something else than the mission. But right now he wanted somewhere to sit and have food and a drink. He was starving and judging from the way Ayera’s eyes lit up when he had murmured the suggestion to her, she was in the same boat as he was. The others probably too, but he was not really interested in that. Quite frankly he was not sure how many gold pieces he had left anymore. He would have to look and probably rip his hair out. Maybe they could have hunted something and traded the game for a meal? Though there was probably nothing out there which had enough meat on its ribs for that kind of purpose.

The inn was as packed as yesterday when they stumbled in. This time the patrons stopped and looked at them wearily. How they were able to remember the brawl in their stupor was beyond him at the moment.

“You folks planning on trouble?”

“If the men can restrain and not touch my behind then yes, there will be no trouble”, Ayera hissed towards the innkeeper as she swept in and slapped a coin purse on the bar. The rest of the people returned to their previous activities seemingly uninterested.

“Do you want to get thrown out again, Breton?”

“Right now we didn’t do anything and we just proved we can pay you. All we need are rooms and meals.”

“If ye can pay…” Ayera made an annoyed hand gesture towards the coin purse. The innkeeper curiously looked into the purse and counted out the gold coins one by one. “Meal for five people would be 50 gold coins and we only have two rooms left, so that is an additional 20 gold.” She handed the purse back to Ayera who just nodded tightly. There was a table a bit further into the inn and not close to anyone they could take, but it would mean they were sitting in the shadow of the centre fire.

Sven decided for them as he strode up to the table and plopped down on it, his sword clattering loudly as he made himself a bit more comfortable in his chair. “What are you waiting for? I rather not eat my food while standing.” Erador only shrugged at Ayera who raised an eyebrow at him and followed the Nord, sitting down on the chair where he could face the entire inn with his back to the wall.

It took a while for them to eat their food. All in silence, Bjorn’s glare never really left Ayera. Whether it bothered her Erador couldn’t tell and he had a prickling feeling in his neck about it. Bjorn seemed to be one of those hot tempered Nords who wanted the glory of battle and he had been outnumbered. Maybe he would need to be up all night just to make sure he and Ayera would not wake up without heads the next morning. Sighing he looked deep into his tankard half full with this terrible brew the Nords liked to drink. At one point Sven engaged him into a conversation about swords and how he had learned about wielding a greatsword. He pretended to be interested and listened.

Apparently it was something almost similar to woodchopping according to the Nord. How he ever made that comparison he could not understand…. Though, what was interesting in the end, was that Sven came from a small settlement. How did a farmer’s son become a trained warrior when the training would take years and probably gold for a master? It turned out his father used to be a soldier in the Great War and was honourably discharged due to an injury which claimed his left leg.

“It was like woodchopping, long and forceful swing”, he had only guffawed at it which prompted Sven to laugh. “Pretty sure that is how I looked when my pa told me to chop wood for the next five consecutive years. Each day I would chop wood for the whole village. Then finally I was allowed near a sword. A wooden one I might say, one I chopped its pieces for personally.” He chuckled at his own perceived joke.

Erador had no idea what was supposed to funny, but at least the guy didn’t seem to immediately dislike elves. Bjorn didn’t talk, not that he expected him to. He had been too upset about their decision to leave without doing anything about more potential undead. He would have to stay up longer tonight, just so he could be sure there would be no foolish action on the Nord’s part considering he was throwing murderous glares towards Ayera who was conversing with Fevuril about whatever draugr’s relation with dragons were. He really didn’t want to know what they had to do with dragons. However, the back hairs of his neck stood on end. Though if it was from Fevuril or the fact there were probably more undead roaming the swamps and he and Ayera had practically left themselves unguarded the whole time…. he could not really tell. Sighing he looked back down in his drink. Still no dragonborn and he was getting herded away from the majority of the country because of the war. He should have requested someone else to do this mission with him, but that would have meant more suspicion. At least he had caught her friend… although there was something off about whenever he talks about the dragonborn. He couldn’t really put his finger on why though.

Later on when Ayera and he laid down on the same narrow bed, considering he refused to share the same room as Bjorn and she had felt the same way, he broached the subject of Bjorn. She had only raised her eyebrows when he put a chair underneath door handle.

“I do not like the guy”, he propped himself up on his elbow to look down on her. She frowned.

“Who?”

“Bjorn.”

“Oh… I suppose I got on his bad side with that decision.”

“Can you blame him?”

“No, but…”

“I know why you said no.”

“You don’t. If there was a dragonpriest we would have died.”

“How would you know?” he asked softly.

“I fought one before.”

“You survived.” She bit her lip, hard. Her eyes searched his and they were gleaming a bit. Tears….

“Yes, but the cost was too high.” Cryptic.

“Someone died.”

“To save me.”

“He must have loved you.”

“A she, she was sworn to protect me at all cost.” This time it was his turn to frown.

“Sworn to protect you?”

“I was Thane of Whiterun.” Now… that he hadn’t known. But that would explain why the people in Whiterun had been so friendly with her and willing to smuggle them in the city under Ulfric’s nose.

“How?”

“I helped my friend kill the dragon, the one where it was revealed what she was. As thanks for saving Whiterun we both were awarded Thaneship and a housecarl. We delved into nordic ruins because of her dragon business. That was where we encountered the dragonpriest”, she choked up. “If I had been only more careful she would be still be alive.”

He had no idea how to console her. Slipping an arm around her he knew it was an awkward hug, but what else could he do? Words were not his forte in these situations.

“We buried her outside, I probably can tell you where the spot is now, even two years later. My friend, she started disappearing after that. She would visit Whiterun less and less and then sometimes months.”

“And then you got into the brotherhood?”

“I guess… I was desperate. They offered me a new purpose in a sense.”

“I see.”

“You don’t approve.”

“I don’t. But you are not doing it now.”

“I know.”

Sighing he let go of her and faced the wall, away from her.

“Go get some sleep, we will most likely start moving tomorrow again.”

“We would have to go to Markarth now.”

“Markarth?”

“Yes, she sometimes mentioned going there for… whatever she does these days.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight, Erador's POV done. Do tell me what you think about his thoughts.   
> Now, I have published some ideas/theories/notes on this story on my fanfiction.net profile. Can't have long stuff on my profile on archive. Either way, if you guys are interested, here is the link https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3560550/LadyIunara  
> If you wish you can discuss them with me, I do like those discussions.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, sorry about the delay. I have to redo two exams. That is currently my priority right now. After that there will be applications I need to go after. 
> 
> Anyways, please tell me what you think. I feel like I still have a lot to improve so I would appreciate any criticism.
> 
> had to edit, since I overlooked some names I had changed after writing several chapters. I am really sorry. As I said, do please comment.

_Her head hurt. A dull banging pain in her forehead to be precise. Her nose burned, her hands were numb, her feet were numb, her throat felt closed and burned and everything was just so cold. She could hear hooves on cobble stone, something wooden was digging into her back, her rear. Was she on a carriage? Her arms were just stiff. Just take a deep breath. Bad decision… cold air intensified the already present burn in her nose. Neither did it really help her head either. What had happened that she felt like vomiting right where she was? Another breath, force some air into her lungs, hopefully it would lessen the bile sensation in her throat. At least she hoped so, hadn’t helped so far, anything else she couldn’t do really. Her eyes were still closed, but she could feel the sun on her face. Probably best if she didn’t open them for now. There was something rough around her wrists and ankles, her ankle bones digging uncomfortably into each other. A sudden jolt nearly threw her to the side, her head connecting painfully with a wooden board. Her eyes flew open and sunshine stabbed into her eyes. Wincing she put her bound hands next to her head to push herself up again._

_“Finally awake, eh?” someone said and she flinched. The sound was reverberating around her skull and certainly didn’t help the blunt pain hammering in her forehead. Turning her head towards the source of the voice, she was greeted with a Nord, by the looks of it, blond, burly and clad in blue armor. His hands were bound, heavy chains around his feet, which were bare. The other two sharing the wagon with them were also bound. One was only garbed in a rough tunic, trousers, he only shot her a seething glare before looking away again. The other one was gagged, but dressed more richly. Fur was draped over his shoulders over fine wool. Who was he that he was so important to gag? And why only gag one prisoner? Frowning she looked over the blonde’s shoulder. Green bushes lined the cobblestone path they were on, scattered between them were large boulders. Turning her gaze to the right, she realised they were coming down a mountain, or had crossed a mountain range and were currently descending to wherever they were going. The blonde was still staring at her. Still waiting for an answer._

 

_“I guess you could say that”, her voice was raspy and she internally cringed at how awful it must sound._

_“You were trying to cross the border, right?” Did she? She couldn’t remember. Everything before waking up was… just not there, “just like the thief there.”_

_He made a motion with his head towards the man opposite her. The man scowled: “If you Stormcloaks hadn’t been there, I would have been already across the border and far away from Skyrim.”_

 

_Skyrim? Was this where she was?  A jabbing pain made her scrunch up her face. Thinking hurt way too much right now._

 

_“I was trying to cross the border?” The blonde widened his eyes and had an incredulous expression on his face._

 

_“You mean you don’t remember?” Well, if someone told her what happened, then that stupid question would have never been voiced. She threw him an annoyed glance, at least she hoped it was an annoyed one._

 

_“You walked into an ambush. Filthy imperials captured us and you had been right in the middle of it on a horse”, he smirked, “and this thief over here tried to steal it in the middle of the scuffle by knocking you out. Now the Imperials assumed you were with us and bound you up like us.”_

_Her head was swimming. On a horse… to where?!_

_“What is up with that guy?” the horse thief asked scathingly nodding towards the man next to her._

_What she hadn’t expected was the other man jerking from his seat and headbutting the thief, who apparently got her into this predicament in the first place. However, since the blonde’s feet were tied, he fell forward and with a crunch, she suspected his nose broke, he landed on the floor of the wagon face forward. The thief howled in pain, while blood was dripping from his nose._

 

_“Stupid Stormcloaks!” Stormcloaks? Who? Their wagon came to a jolting stop. Her body slid down, her torso connecting painfully with the wooden board separating her from the driver. The gagged man, who she still had no idea of who he was, seemed not to have moved at all. Ice blue eyes made short eye contact with her. Nothing, except for apprehension in them. Then soldiers clad in brown leathers and clanking chainmails were on them. One of them with a huge steel helmet, decorated with red hair, maybe that was horse hair, climbed on, yanked the blonde up by his hair. He was grinning. Whoever it was, seemed like a woman, didn’t say anything, just used the pommel of her sword to bash it into his temple. He crumbled, she looked towards the gagged one again. If even asking someone after his identity invoked such reaction, then he must be the leader. He looked furious. A deep frown and glaring at the woman who grinned at him. The suddenly he lunged forward, but only to be held back. His upper body was straining to get to her, his arms however or hands were tightly bound on the wagon rail._

_Slowly she used her hands to push her away from the board. Her eyes must be wide as plates, but who were those people?_

_“Do not get any funny ideas”, that woman glared at her and that thief. Did she look seriously she was capable of trouble right now? With a blinding headache and sitting in front of someone who was apparently responsible she could not even remember her own name?! How stupid was this woman? Just this red colour of her skirt, it seemed to tingle something in the back of her mind. Then it slipped away from her._

_A roar was suddenly heard. No… this was wrong! He came later! What was happening?_

_“Dovahkiin!”_

Her eyes snapped open quickly.  She was not on that cart nor was she in the past, not anymore. A blessing really, although back then her life was a bit easier. Not that it has been easy to begin with… just dragonless. Light was drifting between the wooden beams of the inn. Was it already late? Erador wasn’t next to her. Sitting up she blinked wearily looking at the tiny room. He wasn’t at the chair and desk either. How deeply had she slept? Or the more pressing question, how long? Stupid dreams… she had nothing to do with dragons or any of those sorts. There was another one who was. Not her.

She rolled to her side facing the door and sat up. Then the smell hit her and her stomach roiled. Moist rot, the clothes she had on were ruined. Could she potentially wash it out in the river outside? Maybe… but that was also swamp and she’d rather not intensify the stench of it clinging to her. Hopefully they were leaving Morthal today, she could wear her armor and not those bloody and stinking rags.

Just as she stood up the door to her room opened and Erador stepped through. In his hands a bowl with water. Sighing, she pointed towards the tiny wobbly table at the end of the room. Had she smelled that awfully during the night? Probably best not to think about that, everyone stank in Skyrim. Nothing new there, Ulfric was the biggest stinker on top of that. High elves and their sensitive noses, it was almost laughable how they hadn’t run away from any Nords.

“We both need a wash”, he grinned at her while striding forward to the table setting down the bowl with two cloths in it. One way to put it, certainly. They both reeked of swamp and the pungent sweat smell.

“Soap?” The smell couldn’t really go away with just water.

“The innkeeper said such luxuries are not available in Morthal. She said to go to Solitude for that nonsense”, he shrugged and pulled the tunic off. She quickly looked away. The back of her neck was burning and she could feel it creeping to her cheeks. By the divines, she should really bash her head against something soon. Her thoughts in the regards to him were not her own. Elves were not handsome, nor were they in any sense appealing. As soon as everything is done and said they would never see each other again. Just her stomach still hasn’t settled down, it was as if a stone was in there. That dream she had, it was just a dream. Dragons had not been sighted lately in the Marshes, not much they can steal there. Sheep and goats were rare here. Not really enough grass for them to survive. And they usually go for mountain peaks. No no, none of them will plague them today or not until they walked out of the swamps. The reach and its mountains were another story. Slowly she reached for the cloth, squeezed it for excess water and lifted it to her face. She could feel the grime and dirt of the last few days getting washed away, her skin tingling at the cold morning air now.

It took them a while, the water in the bowl had to be changed several times, but it had been worth it. Her shoulders felt less tense and her nose was less itchy when they emerged from their room, packed up and ready to go. She had to dye her hair again, while Erador wasn’t looking she had discovered a silver strand of hair. The bottle with enough for her to dye her hair was still there, but once that was gone she would have to find someone who could make it and keep their mouths shut. Markarth maybe? Chewing on her lip she thought of Ulfric’s war campaign. There hadn’t been any word from Falkreath so far. His army would need time to leave Whiterun, but if they were in Markarth when he laid siege to it, they were effectively trapped within and the dwarven ruin had no other way getting out either. Not that it would help any of them. As soon as the Stormcloaks realized that the dwemer machines and the falmer dead, they would have them on their trail again. Living in a dwarven ruin for the rest of her life was not in her plans at all.

“Finally you two are done”, Sven remarked from where he sat in the common room, bread and cheese in his hands. Fevuril looked up from his plate, chewing with a full mouth and waved. Bjorn only nodded in acknowledgement and returned to his bowl of whatever he was eating. They had been waiting for her and Erador? She would have thought that since yesterday that would be out of question.

“We decided to travel to Markarth together, the bigger the group the safer we would be.” Erador explained to her while she sat down next to him. It was sensible… but she would rather not be in the same group as Bjorn. She had upset him with her choice yesterday and she’d rather not deal with someone glaring dagger at her back all the time. At least, it would only be to Markarth. Then they would be alone again. The sooner the better.

“I see.”

“It is only for a few days, until we reach the city and its inn. Then we shall see what will happen,” Sven offered another explanation. Ayera looked over to Erador who shrugged at her.

“As I said before, we would be safer in bigger numbers.”

“Of course,” she mumbled. Something wasn’t right. Her stomach was still clenching. Just her nightmare, nothing more and nothing less. She was over reacting.

“You should eat and then we are off,” Sven said looking at her directly. Somehow, she could not really figure out what he thought of her. Worrying.

“Ayera, I will get something,” Erador was already half across the room when he finished the sentence. Did he just leave her to the people who most likely detested her? Hopefully he could feel her glare.

“Come sit down,” Fevuril mumbled with his mouth full of bread and cheese.

“Unless of course you are too good for that too,” Bjorn chimed in giving her a long and hard glare. Sven and Fevuril almost groaned simultaneously. By Sithis, can’t he just move on? It is not like she murdered that soldier!

“It is not like you did anything yourself. You could have just gone and burned it yourself!”

“Oh now it is my fault?!”

“Exactly! Why should I have done it for you?”

“I had neither torch nor magic!”

“If you had stuck with it, I am pretty sure Fevuril and Sven would have helped you.”

“Oh now you are dragging them into this as well?!”

“No…”

“Bjorn, let it be,” Sven interjected this time.

“You are telling me? Tell her that!”

“Well she didn’t start the argument,” Fevuril had both eyebrows raised and looked more annoyed with the both of them.

“Sit down Ayera, we will be here for a while still,” he continued. She did, while glaring at Bjorn who only raised his chin in challenge.

“If you think that I am going with you to Markarth because I want to, think again,” Bjorn hissed in the end and took a large bite out of his piece of bread. She could only roll her eyes at this point, this was going to be long days with this piece of work constantly whining.

“Good, there are other people here for you to talk to,” she replied and watched in glee when his eyes narrowed.  Then she felt rather than heard Erador’s presence behind her.

“Now if you two wouldn’t stop bickering, we need to get going soon.”

Did she just hear Sven sigh a breath of relief?! Rude... Then a loaf of bread and a chunk of cheese were placed before her.

“Here, eat and then we are off.” This time Sven frowned.

“Are we even sure how we are getting there?”

“Isn’t there a road we can take?”

“No, we would have to go through Whiterun hold for the road.” And that road lead straight past Karthspire…. No, they couldn’t.

“We just escaped from there…” Erador began and she finished for him, “and we rather not go back.”

“Well that settles it then, we avoid a strip of Whiterun because an elf and an elf fucker are sooo worried,” Bjorn hissed which Fevuril responded to with an exasperated eye roll.

“Bjorn, shut up for Julianos sake! It is getting old now.”

“How can you…” Ayera could only share a disbelieving stare with Erador, who only slightly shook his head.

“Stop it, neither Fev nor I agreed with her to begin with but you are just holding a grudge now.”

“Didn’t really feel like you were disagreeing yesterday.”

“We could argue about this for hours, Bjorn. But you also know that we both would never agree on anything.” Ohhh, so this was not the first time they had had these kind of arguments? Curious. Bjorn only opened his mouth to retort, but then closed it. His stare only darkened.

“Fine, but as soon as we reach Markarth we leave them to their own. Are we agreeing to that?”

“Yes,” Sven said with a shrug and started to clasp his upper armor together.

“Either way, we need to determine our route. I am taking none of you are familiar with the roads to Markarth?” She shook her head, while Erador bent down. What was he…? Oh right he had a map.

“Fortunately for us, we have a map.”

“Finally something useful done on this table,” Bjorn muttered which made Sven snort.

“Right,” Erador bit out before straightening up again to lay the wrinkled map on top and then proceeded to smooth them out.

“Those are funny markings,” Sven pointed out while tracing a red dotted line around the Pale.

“I do tend to make notes of regions I would need to visit and the ones I have already travelled to.”

“So you have been to Windhelm?”

“Yes.”

“I am surprised you are still alive.”

“Well that was before the Great War,” Bjorn frowned.

“Do elves…?”

“Yes, we can reach a lifespan of a couple centuries. A few decades are nothing.”

“Either way, there seems to be a way through the mountains here,” Sven interjected before it could ugly. Somehow she felt bad for him. Stuck in between two people fighting. He tapped one finger on the line indicating the border between Morthal and the Reach. She leaned forward a bit. She had not really spent time exploring the Reach. So she was useless without a map and then she had no idea if the path Sven was thinking of was even possible.

“I don’t know, never been there.”

“Me neither, but what else other than going back to Whiterun and then running into any Stormcloak troops?”

“Well, the Forsworn don’t really help those matters either.”

“No, not at all,” Fevuril piped up. “However, I think I can say something here. There have been reportings of Falmer in those areas around the path in Whiterun.”

“You are not really helping anything,” Erador grumbled.

“No, but I think we have a better chance with Forsworn than with Falmer.”

“Have you ever encountered one?” Erador asked and she could hear his disbelief.

“No, but…”

“Falmer are blind and stick to caves and dwarven structures.” All eyes were on her now.

“How do you know?”

“I have killed Falmer before.”

“When?” Fevuril asked eagerly while Erador returned to brooding over his map with an angry frown. Whatever his problems were this time, she did not care.

“That was years ago. We, as in my housecarl, my friend,” she shot Erador a meaningful look hoping he would understand she meant the Dragonborn,” and I were tasked to clear out a cave which in the initial reports should have been infested with trolls. Easy enough…” at that Sven snorted.

“Trolls? Easy?” She glowered at him. Let her speak, by Auriel….

“When we finally arrived we saw the usual bone markings…”

“Bone markings?” This time it was Fevuril.

“Yes, they take the hip bones of humans and make… uhm… like posts with them.” All she received were blank looks.

“And you survived delving into a Falmer nest.”

“Yes? Obviously?”

“By the gods…” Could they seriously stop gaping at her? It was getting old now.

“Anyways, we go in and suddenly we were swarmed by them. It took us four days to clear everything out.”

“Four days?”

“The cave system was big, and then we had to stop for rest, food and healing.”

“Hang on, you said ‘your housecarl’ once. You are a Thane?” Bjorn had stopped eating and this time he was not mad at her. First time for everything she supposed.

“I was. Once the city was conquered any thaneship got revoked and had to be rewarded again. We fled before I had to go and formally request.”

“Why did you?” This time Sven asked with a crease on his forehead.

“Vignar Greymane is the new Jarl. I was not welcome anymore.”

“Since you were a Breton with a high elf companion…?” This time Fevuril asked.

“Might have been. He never liked me.” Mostly because she was the Dragonborn and did not support Ulfric’s cause like most of the people had anticipated. Or whatever reason he had had to sneer at her most of the time he saw her.

“So this is why you ran when you could.”

“We didn’t really run.”

“Then how?”

“We sneaked out. The whole city was on lockdown.”

“Oh…” Sven became quiet.

“Either way, we need to get moving. Ulfric will be on the move soon and we would rather not be in Skyrim when that happens,” Erador suddenly said and looked up.

“You are leaving Skyrim?” Fevuril asked dumbfounded.

“Yes, we were not born here,” his foot suddenly tapped her foot forcibly. Oh by the divines, she was not that stupid to contradict him in front of strangers!

“But… she is a Thane.” Bjorn sounded incredulous.

“Was being the keyword here,” she retorted while taking a swig from her tankard.

“How?”

“How I became a Thane? I helped Whiterun when a dragon attacked it.”

“You fought a dragon?”

“With the Dragonborn too.” This time Sven stiffened.

“The Dragonborn,” he growled. What was his problem now? Why did strangers start to curse her name like it was... dirt on their tongues?!

“Have you met her?” she asked sweetly. He didn’t know her, she knew that, but she was tired of it now.

“No, but where is she whenever a dragon attacks a settlement?!”

“Skyrim is big and she is just one person,” Erador had looked up from the map this time with a scowl.

“So? She is the chosen of Akatosh! It is her duty!”

“And pray tell, how would she be able to do it when she is chasing after dragons in the Rift and then would have to be somewhere across of Skyrim in the matter of a day for the next?”

“Is it that bad?” Fevuril’s voice seemed small now. Timid even. Good. She was done explaining herself.

“Dragons are all across Tamriel right now. Rumours has it that Abah’s Landing had been hit not long ago.” Where was this Abah’s Landing? A lot of puzzled expressions greeted Erador who sighed.

“Abah’s Landing is on the west coast of Hammerfell.”

“How do you know all of this?” Fevuril had narrowed his eyes at Erador who simply shrugged.

“There are lots of redguard merchants in Solitude.”

“And they just know?”

“They have maybe families there who would tell them over letters?”

“I see.”

“You expect the Dragonborn to be all over Tamriel and rescue every single settlement or city?”Erador continued lightly, not even bothering to look up from his map.

“I…”

“Thought so.”

“It does not change the fact that she has not been seen for years now!”

This time Ayera could only open her mouth and close it again. He was right in a way. She had tried to fight dragons when she could, but then… she hated to admit, she sometimes ran whenever she saw a dragon circling near a city. Ulfric would have had her hide if she had been anywhere in Stormcloak territory and been discovered. Absorbing a soul as powerful as a dragon’s was no simple or easy process to endure. After all she was absorbing a being’s life.

Lokluvah, the dragon on Elderspeak had fought even after its soul had been merged with hers. Lydia had had to carry her down the mountain for she could not move as its soul was rampaging against hers. Only Mirmulnir had been the least difficult. Maybe its shock on her being dov had been the key there. Although the first few hours had been gut wrenching to even move. She could defeat a dragon alone, she had done it in the mountains in the Reach. However, lying on the hard rock for hours not knowing when she could move again nor knowing whether Forsworn nor bears nor Falmer were nearby. The sun had set by the time she could sit up shakily and look around. She’d rather not confront them alone.

“Maybe she is somewhere else defeating dragons?” She suggested.

“Have you heard anything?”

“No, but with the war going on do you really think that kind of news would reach Skyrim?”

“Why would she leave Skyrim though?”

“I don’t know, I never met her.” He did… that conversation will be awkward.

“Then how could you make such a judgement then?”

“All we know is that there is a Dragonborn and there had not been any information about it for years. She might be dead or somewhere we cannot know.”

“Speculations?” The disdain dripped from Fevuril’s voice.

“Do you have any concrete proof where she is?!”

“No…”

“Then don’t turn your nose up to any reasonable speculations.”

“Anyways,” could they finally decide on the path? She’d rather be on the road by now. Far away from Morthal and any undead waddling her way. “We just ruled out the path through Whiterun.”

“And then how are we supposed to get to Markarth then?”

“Well, we will have to climb through the Reach.”

“As if that was any less dangerous than potentially encountering Falmer.”

“Or the very high possibility that we will run across Stormcloaks.”

“What is the problem?” Erador raised both eye brows at that comment.

“We have two elves here and a Breton. I think there will be a problem with them!”

“Do you really think we will run across a Stormcloak patrol?”

Hang on, she just saw it on the map…

“The road from Whiterun to Markarth is on the border to Falkreath too.”

“And?”

“We just said we really did not want to run into any Stormcloaks. A road that connects three holds will be a major contesting point!”

“Oh.”

“See!”

“And then you suggest diving straight into the Reach knowing full well we might encounter Forsworn, Falmer or …”

“Don’t forget bears and sabre cats!” She threw in.

“You are not making a strong point for that route,” Fevuril complained.

“But I am being honest.”

“Fair point.”

“Now, Stormcloaks will mean almost certain death and the other route is a lesser chance to die.”

“Great way to put it.”

“It is the truth unfortunately,” Erador remarked while pointing at an indicated mountain range on his map.

“Though how are we going to scale a mountain?”

“As far as I know the mountains are not that steep and the valleys in between should be traversable,” Bjorn said and then when he received questioning glances he added, “My dad told me.”

“Either way, I think we have established that we would need to go that route anyways.”

“Yes, but we also need to know what we will be up against.”

“Weeks of being in the wilderness,” she said. “Especially if we are to avoid Forsworn and if we have to avoid caves.”

“I see. Open space would be the best to camp then?”

“We will see.”

“I’d rather know now.”

“Well then think about this. We do not know the land, there will be no ideal spot to camp for us to know as of now.”

“We are going in blind… fantastic…”

“Better than marching straight into a potential war zone.”

“I see your point.”

“Do we need any more supplies before we go?” Erador asked rolling his map together again.

“We would have to buy food here, then potions for Fevuril and…”

“Arrows,” Ayera added almost immediately.

“We need sharpening stones too.”

“I have one,” Erador answered which earned him a grateful look from both Bjorn and Sven.

“We lost ours on our way to Morthal,” Sven explained at Ayera’s questioning look. “We had to flee our settlement. A dragon attacked.”

Her stomach sank. Another settlement? By the divines, she was a failure. But that would mean she could not ever tell them who she was really. They had already been hostile towards her and it was rather doubtful they would accept her fear of Ulfric as a reason why she had trouble keeping up with the dragons.

“I think we can forget about potions for now,” Fevuril suddenly seemed to remember the reason for the fiasco of yesterday, “We did not return the ingredients to the alchemist.”

“Oh and we do not have the money…” Sven trailed off. Erador looked to Ayera who only shrugged apologetically. She would be able to afford those potions, but then they would be cut dry once they were to leave Skyrim with no viable income.

“Guess, we are cut short on potions,” Sven continued.

“So arrows, food needs to be bought and then a sharpening stone is not of a concern yet,” Bjorn added.

At least they reached an accord. Gods knew they had a rough start… well mostly because of her. But what could she about that now? Nothing.

It took them until midday to get all the supplies and then get their packs ready to move out. Ayera was balling the tunic together, but then… it stank so badly. If that smell would ever get out she highly doubted.

“Are you seriously going to take that hideous thing?” Erador then suddenly piped up behind her. Her back was towards him still, but she could sense an already forming smirk on his face.

“I have nothing else to wear,” she supplied the only reason why she’d ever consider wearing this rag again.

“Surely we could afford buying you a simple tunic in Markarth?” he openly frowned at her.

“Maybe,” she answered distractedly. Deciding was hard and it would free up space if she just were to burn it.

“Or we could also just buy cloth for you, I know you can sow decently enough.”

“But that would take time we might not have.”

“You could go without it and just stay in your armor and under tunic.”

“I could.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Nothing.”

“There is. You always get short and pensive when you there is a problem for you.”

Her mind suddenly tugged at something. She blinked. No… it couldn’t be.

“See you are proving my point.”

“I.. what?” It happened again. A dragon was nearby or approaching and she could feel it.

“Are you alright?” he sounded concerned now. “You look like you have seen a ghost.”

She might as well have. If they could leave now and just run until the tugging stopped, she would not feel safe.

“We… should get going,” she threw the tunic on the floor suddenly disgusted by it. A hand suddenly appeared on her shoulder. Her body jerked to the side and her temple connected painfully with the wooden door. Sithis… it hurt! Wincing she rubbed the sore spot and turned around to face Erador.

“Ayera?” He grasped her upper forearms with his hands and held on tightly. Confused and lost, all she could really see in his gaze.

“It’s nothing. We should go.” What an ugly lie, but she couldn’t just blurt out that she had sensed a dragon and wanted to run. _Coward_ … Erador sighed and it sounded frustrated.

“Fine. We will go now.” She flinched slightly at his pointed tone. Then his face smoothed out instantly. Lowering her head, she shouldered her pack and moved towards the door. The sooner they were out and moving away the better.

 

 

The sun was already past its zenith when their little group stepped foot out of Morthal and eastwards. All huddled into their cloaks as an icy breeze had picked up before leaving and blew mercilessly into their faces.

“Are we sure we can reach Markarth before the mountains are all snowed in?” Fevuril had voiced his concern when they reached a bend in the road.

“The peaks will be snowed in, the passes we’ll be going through should be clear still,” Sven answered, pulling the fur around his neck tighter. Though, he sounded unsure himself.

“I don’t like how cold the wind is already.”

“It is Skyrim. The winds are always cold. You should know coming from Winterhold.”

“Yes, but there we had snowfall early autumn!”

“The Reach is further south than Winterhold, the passes won’t be snowed in as long as we do not slow down,” Erador said while re-adjusting his pack.

Ayera only looked towards the mountains behind which Whiterun Hold would be. Another tug, this time weaker. Good, they were walking away.

“Ayera?” Oh, they were waiting for her…

“Yes, I am coming.”

“You made such a fuss about leaving and now you stop,” Bjorn remarked clearly annoyed.

“I am thinking.” Bjorn only scoffed at her answer to which instinctively rolled her eyes at.

“We are still ahead of what we had planned,” Sven intervened this time.

“At least that.”

“I would…” the rest she couldn’t hear anymore. Her ears were ringing as if she was close to the shores to the sea. Like when she stood near Dawnstar and the waves crashed at the shore. Then it was gone and she could see black spots in front of her eyes. Then it was gone. Erador was further away from her and she took three quick steps to catch up to him.

“How far do you think we can walk until we need to stop?” she whispered to him.

“I think,” he creased his eyebrows probably trying to remember his map without having to take it out, “we will be half way to the border to Markarth once we need to camp up.”

In the middle between the swamp and the river flowing through Markarth. Then they would be trekking through the mountains for the rest of the journey. Unless they got lost. Then they would take longer.

Another tug, she had to grit her teeth. Why was she running? She should just face… No, stop thinking like that. They had to keep on walking!

“Ayera?”

“It is nothing,” she snapped back with a glare hoping he’d shut up. How dare he question her?

“Obviously,” he drawled with a raised eyebrow. This lowly man thought to talk back at her? How... a shiver ran up her spine. This was bad… Paarthurnax had warned her about this. Crossing her arms she lowered her gaze to the floor.

One step after another. One foot in front of the other. Do not look at any of them. By Auriel, it seemed as if sleep was her only escape right now.

 

 

The wind let up towards the evening, the clouds vanishing to a deep rose-orange sky with the setting sun. Something she could stare at for eternity, it was pretty compared to the grey colours of the swamp at this time of the year. They had reached a fork in the road they had been following and her mind was tingling uncomfortably.

“I think we should rest for the night,” Fevuril suggested when they stopped shortly to confirm that they had to head shortly towards the South.

“Here?” Sven asked.

“Yes here.”

“A bit too out in the open?” Erador asked incredulously.

“You want us to sleep on the road where any bandits can come around?” Her back stiffened. He was right… Bandits who were still looking for her! And Erador had admitted he had not killed every bandit terrorizing that village. She shot a short glance towards Erador hoping he remembered that as well. He didn’t look like he seemed to remember that particular detail.

“If we are in the open we are running into the risk of being easy prey to bandits. Also no protection from wind and any fire they would see miles away,” Ayera said slowly. Do not snap. Do not yell.

“Well, there are trees here,” Bjorn pointed to their right where there was a forest bordering to the road. At least she thought it was a forest…. She hadn’t really explored this region. Travelling alone tended to scare her off of such ideas. But then again, she had not really been to Morthal and the only time alone in the Reach, she had been incapacitated by the dragon for hours.

“It is better than nothing,“ she agreed begrudgingly. Who would have thought she’d agree to Bjorn for once? Given the stare she received from Erador he had thought the same thing.

“Well, that is settled then,” Sven replied with a mockingly cheerful voice to which Fevuril only sighed at.

Setting up camp was a silent affair and to Ayera’s relief quickly. Fevuril ignited the camp fire underneath a rabbit she shot which was already mounted above the fire put. All the while Erador set up their sleep rolls. It had been a last minute purchase by them when Sven mentioned it in passing before they had set off.

“Who takes the first watch?” Erador asked when they all dug into some portion of the rabbit.

“I would volunteer,” Sven answered after ripping a large chunk of meat of a bone with his teeth.

“After that I can do,” she raised one of her eyebrows at him. Of all things, he was a deep sleeper. She’d be surprised if Sven managed to wake him up at all.

“After that, I will do one,” she finally volunteered.

“I think that won’t be necessary,” Fevuril replied evenly, “We can do watches of two per night.”

“So, at least three of us are actually rested,” Erador said slowly nodding towards the dark elf huddling close to the campfire.

“Aye, we did that when we were wandering the Pale,” Sven answered instead and sat himself close to Fevuril.

“I see.” She bit her lip after saying that. It would mean she might dream another dragon dream tonight. Or not, whatever dragon’s soul had tugged on hers the whole journey was no longer nearby. The discomfort was gone, but an uneasy feeling remained. That dragon will have felt that too and it might come after her. She lifted a hand to rub her temple, the mess she was in was just… too much.

“Ayera, are you alright?” Erador whispered into her ear. How had she not noticed that he had shifted over to her.

“I am fine, just… haven’t dreamed well lately,” she glanced shortly to him. He had a deep frown on his forehead.

“Dreams?”

“They are nothing.”

“Surely not, since you have been out of it most of today.” She sighed. Of course she was that obvious. Even Bjorn noticed. There was no real harm in admitting that her dreams were keeping her up?

“I suppose you are right.”

Erador looked briefly over to the other three who had put their heads together, whispering. Maybe it was best for now that they did not talk tonight, her eyes were already dropping. Then Erador turned his attention back to her.

“What are you dreaming about? Is this about Whiterun?” She opened her mouth, then closed it again. It would be a convenient lie, he did not need to know.

“I keep seeing Saadia, how she died.” A lie, but one he’d believe her without a doubt.

“You never told me how.”

“We never really had enough time to talk about it,” she chuckled slightly. They really had not had the time to talk about Saadia. The executions, the riot, being in jail, Ysolda, fleeing, the necromancer and the village. No time at all to think about anything that happened.

“She tried to kill me.”

He frowned.

“You two were friends, why would she…?”

“She thought I, we, abandoned her when the city fell.”

“She thought that we, us two, could have done more to swing the tide?”

“It seems so,” she stared into the fire. The orange flickered too much, so she looked away.

“Do you think the same?” He asked. It was one thing to be told, but another if she actually believed it too.

“I… haven’t really thought about it,” she admitted slowly. Her eyes dropped from his face to his hands which were clasped in his lap. Somehow, her own hands developed their own mind and reached out for his. Her fingers clasped his and she looked back up.

“She had a dagger in her hand when I entered by bedroom,” she bit her lip pausing before she continued, another lie to the pile,” she was rambling on how we abandoned her. That I as a Thane should have been able to protect her.”

“You can’t protect everyone,” he muttered leaning forward so their foreheads nearly touched, but didn’t. Somehow that tiny space burned more than any other distance between them.

“I… realise.”

“But do you fully understand it though?” She had to frown. What was there to understand?

“I do?” He sighed.

“You should sleep,” he made a head movement towards one of their sleep rolls and withdrew slowly. She really should sleep; hopefully there would be no more dragon dreams. Otherwise she would have not escaped the dragon’s reach yet.

“So should you, you need some rest before you keep watch.”

“Aye, however, I do not think we’ll encounter anything of danger to us,” he smirked while saying that. She had to bite her lower lip. How wrong he was, how utterly wrong. If she could sense a dragon, then the dragon sensed her as well. It would regard it as a challenge and will chase them. The only thing they could do was to keep running.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the wait. Life was... hard to say the least. Abusive relationships which finally ended, school.  
> I hope you are not too upset with the wait. I am sorry, truly am.

_Ayera gripped her bow tightly, the leather at the grip creaked quietly given its state of use already. Her nose itched horribly with the smoke clouding the sky._

_“Looks like it has already been here,” Irileth muttered next to her, sheathing her sword. Ayera flinched involuntarily at the loud metallic ringing given how silent the plains seemed to be today. The buzzing of the bees, the rushing of the water in the streams was drowned out by the crackling of the fire at the Tower’s base._

_“Spread out, see if you can find any survivors!” Irileth had raised her voice to bark out the order, the men following it without question. Ayera only followed them after a moment of hesitation. Why they would think that she would know anything more about dragons than Farengar, she had no idea. Though, thank Auriel, the dragon had not stuck around after the destruction. The one at Helgen had been enough for a lifetime. The sooner they are done the better, maybe she could get some hunting done to sell to Hulda._

_The stairs to the now destroyed tower looked like something massive had landed on them and crushed the steps underneath its weight. There was the smell of charred flesh emanating from within the tower. Her steps faltered. It was the same smell as the one in Helgen. She took a step back._

_“No,” surprised she nearly dropped her weapon. Someone had called from within the tower. Irileth was immediately at her side and before any of them could move a guard emerged from the small door way._

_“Get back, the dragon is still around somewhere!” She could practically see the whites of his eyes from where she stood. His helmet was gone, his cloak torn in the middle, uselessly flapping in the mild summer afternoon breeze. Though, she could not see any obvious injuries so far._

_“Soldier, what happened?”_

_“Oh gods,” he shivered in fear his eyes fixed on the sky. Ayera whipped around in time to see what in the next second blocked the sun, a huge shadow casting over her face. Her eyes ached badly with the sudden light change. A huge flying monstrosity. Oh no… Not this dragon again! Her legs froze up and she nearly stumbled forward. Then wind hit her back and her legs unfroze and she ran into the tower past the surviving guard, who ran after her almost immediately. Not a moment too soon as fire rained down onto the bridge outside the tower. Her bow was in her hands still, thank Auriel._

_A roar made her flinch violently and the flapping of wings was so loud she knew the dragon was still nearby._

_“There is a broken window upstairs, hurry” the guard who had followed her called grabbing his weapon more tightly than he already was. Then he ran outside and was gone out of her view._

_Eyeing the stone stairs, she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Completely failing at it too. The lump stayed. Her knees shook as she ran up the stairs, seeing the broken wall section facing towards Whiterun city itself._

_There the dragon was, hovering in the air, its head facing downwards towards Irileth and her men. Something blue flickered in her peripheral, but she already had an arrow knocked aiming for… something. She let loose and the steel arrow flew right at the dragon, hit a scale and… rebounded. Her jaw dropped on its own. Oh no… What could she hit?! The wing membranes? Would that even hinder him? Or its head, the nose? Knocking another she tried to aim again. But that stupid lizard was too nimble for her to get a clear shot. Relaxing the bow string she lowered her bow._

_Then suddenly the dragon’s head was in front of her, the beast hovering right there looking straight at her. She froze. How? It had just been flying a loop over the soldiers outside…Before she could do anything else however…_

_Its maw opened, the long fangs glistening in the low hanging sun._

_“YOL TOOR SHUL!” Orange flames formed deep in its throat, the small ball of it rapidly expanding towards her. Eyes wide, she only lifted her hands… as if it could do anything._

 

Rough shaking of her shoulder made her shoot up from sleep. Her muscles were all cramped up, a branch digging through the leather of her armour into her upper neck. Ow… Finally opening her eyes, she came into eye contact with Erador. His eyes had dark bags underneath. They should have done shorter watches with her taking the last one.

“You were trashing in your sleep,” she breathed out at his reasoning. Then took in her surroundings. Grey light filtered through the leaves, it must be early morning then still.

“Was it bad?” Her voice croaked, she coughed trying to get it rid of it.

“No, but you nearly hit your head once or twice since I was watching,” he reached over and tucked something out of her braid. A brown leaf which crumbled in his fingers.

“I feel like shit,” she admitted after a moment of silence. Her neck muscles were so sore.

 

“You also look like it,” he smirked at her. She only smiled back at his attempt to cheer her up. He did not know why. Though, they all deserved to be prepared. A dragon was close enough that she sensed it. But… she exhaled slowly, who would believe her? All her reason would be her sensing the dragons from afar. Then though, none of them except Erador actually were happy with her.

“I have a bad feeling,” she could at least throw some hints.

“Bad feeling about what?” Erador answered sitting down next to her.

“As if something was chasing us. You know…” He gave her an understanding look.

“Do you think the bandits know where we are?”

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly on that matter, chewing on her lower lip worriedly. Her stomach growled. She really should eat. Last night she had barely any appetite.

“Here,” he leaned forward obscuring her view from the where they had built a fire, “that was for you. You were already passed out when it was done.” He handed her a stick where a piece of rabbit was pierced through.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly, eyeing the large brown piece of meat. It would most likely fill her stomach until noon, and then she’d have to eat again. Biting into it, she looked up to Erador again who stared into the small simmering coals of their camp fire. Lost in thought.

 

“Erador?” He flinched a bit and looked at her again.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Just how derailed my plan has gotten ever since Whiterun. On the run… Pah,” he spat into the coals, a short fizzle produced a small cloud of black smoke.

“What had been your plan?” Now she was curious. He never really mentioned what he had planned on doing if all of the other mess hadn’t happened.

“Honestly, we would have travelled where you thought she’d be and even if I would have had to actually enter Windhelm,” he slightly shuddered at the idea.

“And then? Once you have found her?”

“I would have brought the Thalmor’s proposition to her, any past transgressions against us would be pardoned and an invitation to the Alinor court.”

 

“Court?” She frowned at him. A high elven court, how did that look like? She knew a Nord court with Balgruuf. As thane she had to attend most, but with her status as Dragonborn she was granted more leeway than probably was allowed.

“Surely you have attended a northern court before?” he asked her, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes,” she was taken aback a bit, “I just thought that the Altmer court would be… so different than a Nord one.”

He chuckled, green eyes glinting with amusement. “Our Cannonreeves hold court for their regions every month as well. There will be petitions, disputes will be settled and what the jarls do.”

 

“So like the Nords.”

“Just like the Nords, maybe with less mead and more wine. But we celebrate it the same on special occasions.”

“Which would be?”

“In Auridon there is a feast to celebrate our liberation from the Sload from eras past.”

“Sload?”

“A beastfolk. They attacked Skywatch in the first era, massacring nearly everyone.”

“Ohh.”

“And hence we have celebrated the liberation ever since.”

“Never heard about them.”

“They are from the southwest of Tamriel, far away from Skyrim. As far as I remember correctly they were nearly wiped out at one point and have since adopted a strict isolationism policy in all regards.”

“Auridon is the island east of the main isle?”

“Yes, it is also where most Thalmors are trained. Our navy is primarily stationed there too.”

“To protect from an invasion from the Empire?” He snorted, before scrunching up his nose.

“No, Maomer like to think they are the rightful rulers of Summerset Isle.”

“Maomer?”

“Sea elves commonly said.”

“Huh.” Sea elves? She had never heard of sea elves before.

“They…” he squinted his eyes, what he usually did when thinking, “tried several times to take over the Summerset isles claiming they were the chosen Aldmeris.”

“They didn’t succeed,” she said slowly.

“Of course they didn’t, but they got painfully close in the second era.”

“That was so long ago.”

“Yes, our armies defeated their sea serpents and they have remained in isolation ever since.”

“That is… weird?”

“Why?”

“For them to just sit back and not try again?”

“We killed their ‘gods’ in that battle.”

“Those sea serpents?”

“Yes, I imagine that their monarch stayed away from invading us again. Some say he is immortal, maybe so, but after so many eras? Rumour has it lately on the Isles that he is still alive and kicking.”

“The same one for so many eras?”

“Yes, after all accounts a powerful necromancer.”

“I read about how a necromancer in the second era survived up until the Oblivion crisis. Mannimarco, the King of Worms.” Erador looked at her intensely before answering.

“He is the one responsible for the near Plane Meld back then, I wonder how he managed to survive the destruction of his Master Molag Bal’s plans.”

“The book didn’t mention that.”

“I wonder… have you heard about the Vestige and the Companions?”

“No?”

“Neither do most people, but the Imperial library has some invaluable scrolls.”

“You’ve been to the imperial library?” Farengar had always dreamt of going to the legendary library when they had talked about studying magic.

“Briefly, I was in the army when we won the war against the Empire. After in the Imperial city it was my duty to escort scholars to and from their houses to the library and their respective studies.”

“Imperial scholars?”

“Those who cooperated and Dominion scholars. A lot of lore and knowledge had to be recovered.”

“From the Blades archive?”

“Yes, I assume you heard then?”

“How the Dominion killed all of them?” Not really all of them, but he did not need to know that she knew that particular detail.

 

“Yes, they were the ones who assassinated our ambassador.” Ambassador assassinated? What? He must have seen her confused look, which made him frown more openly.

“What were you told on how the war started?”

“I was told that you just invaded and then most Nords only focus on what happened after.“

“Ahhh, with their god Talos.”

“Yes.”

“You see what I do not understand is how they disregard that the Imperials regard him as their god too. After all, from what I heard there are secret cults around the core Empire lands who worship Talos in secret.”

“Not really secret if you know about them.”

“They are common knowledge, but they are sneaky to the point of that it is difficult to prove someone is worshipping him.”

“I take it keeps the Thalmor busy?” He snorted.

“Yes, hence why they take recruits from the army to help the justiciars.”

“Is that how you were drawn in?”

“Yes and no.”

 

“May I ask how?” She was curious now. He had mentioned he had been in the army before, been adamant they were not the same as the Thalmor in any way. So why go to the other branch?

“I was actually recommended by my commander to the Head Ambassador of Skyrim.” Now she had to suppress the urge to swallow. Elenwen. Of course….Once she’d see her again, they’d all know who had broken into the embassy and why. Something she’d rather avoid.

“Just for this mission?”

“Aye, they needed one of the best scouts and unquestionable loyalty to the cause.”

“I’d imagine the unquestionable loyalty was not the hard part?” She remembered the dragon scales, still in his backpack. The residual soul gently tugging at her when she focused.

“There was never a question about my loyalty to begin with,” his voice had hardened and his eyes had a hard glint to them. She cocked her head to the side. There was something simmering down below, something he wanted to tell her. But he held back.

 

“Why?” Maybe she just needed to give him the one push. His eyes flitted over to their three travelling companions who were still sleeping soundly on the ground.

“My sister died to the dragon,” he said quietly. Somehow, she swore, his eyes glimmered in the morning light. But it was gone, maybe it was just the light.

“I am sorry,” she murmured softly edging closer to him in case he needed it. The presence of another.

“She was younger than me,” he sounded passive this time. He did this, when he was affected. Make himself passive.

 

“Oh,” was all she could really say, she lowered her head and stared at her hands. How had she consoled Saadia all those years ago? With a hug. Though, they had been friends and that had been alright. With him? What could she do? She stole a glance over to him. His eyes had a far off look, as if he was remembering. She was close enough to him, that she could practically put her head on his shoulder. Biting on her lower lip, she frowned. Would he even appreciate it right now? Oh Mara, what had she gotten herself into? Slowly, as if not to startle him, she lowered her head onto his shoulder, her hands firmly resting in her lap. He startled slightly, she felt his head move so he could have a glance onto her head.

“Ayera?”

“I am sorry about your sister.”

 

He sighed, but made no move to get away either. What startled her however, was his hand gripping her left one and lifting it towards his face. She only stared as both his hands cupped her hand and then pressed her palm towards his forehead. Her stomach flipped and her cheeks heated up. This was… so intimate.

“Thank you,” it was a mere whisper, for some reason it resonated loudly in her head. What she would give for this to not end. No dragon on their heels, no Dragonborn business, no Thalmor. Just them and just this one moment.

 

Alas, it had to end. Bjorn’s yawn made him drop her hand and she retreated her head from his shoulder.

“Have you guys been awake for long?” For once his voice was not dripping in contempt. She almost snorted at the thought.

“I have been keeping watch,” Erador said nonchalantly.

“Ah. I forgot who kept the last watch,” Bjorn sat up and stretched his arms over his head. His muscles were probably really cramped from the hard ground.

“We should move soon,” Erador changed topic abruptly. Probably for the best.

“Markarth won’t run away from us.”

 

“But the war won’t stop for us,” she sighed. Ulfric had about a week to recuperate now. New recruits for his army. The boost to morale of conquering Whiterun. Her hands balled into fists, those treacherous Greymanes... He most likely was readying his army to march to a new hold. Either Falkreath or Morthal.

“That is true,” Bjorn was on his knees now, folding his sleeping furs.

“Oy, Sven, Fev. Wake up!” Ayera and Erador both flinched at the sudden yell from Bjorn who ignored blissfully their death glares to his back.

“By Shor, Bjorn. One of these days I might accidentally impale you if you keep doing it,” Sven grumbled from beneath his furs. His braids in a mess around his face when he finally emerged.

“You have been saying this for the last few years now and nothing ever happened,” Bjorn shot back with a smug grin.

“Because unlike you, Sven has some common sense,” Fevuril, who was rubbing his eyes furiously shot back.

“Can I remind you who…”

“Yes, yes,” Sven waved his hands in the air now, dismissing any argument Bjorn was about to voice, “I can only assume it is time for us to move?”

“Preferably so,” Erador answered for Bjorn.

 

It took them four days to get out of the swamp, all the while Ayera felt the dragon approaching. As if it wanted her to run, until she was cornered and had nowhere to run. Her dreams… Those were another matter. Yesterday she could barely sleep; as soon as her mind drifted fire consumed her mind, her body. Erador kept throwing her worried glances, as did Fevuril. The black rings underneath her eyes did not do her any favours and the way her movements had become sluggish. Sven had once made a twitch towards her as if to grab her when she had swayed too much. No one had made her do watch duty either. Somehow, she suspected Erador had a hand in this, the way he and Sven had been whispering to each other lately. Not that she could have been of any help there. Her eyes were droopy enough with the amount of sleep she was already getting. With watch, she would have to be half carried to Markarth.

On the fifth day, they had finally made their way to the river flowing towards the Reach. All they had to do was follow it until they reached Karthwarsten. Then they’d be so close to Markarth. Or maybe they could just stay in Karthwarsten… It was so deeply nestled into the mountains; they’d be safe from Stormcloaks for a while.  _The Dragonborn…_. How could she keep forgetting? Erador would never go and hide in the mountains while he still had the mission. With every foot step forward however, her mind drifted away from the thought. All the while another soul tried to latch onto hers, wanting to sink its fangs into it.

They found a small hidden place, suitable to camp for the one night. The river behind some rocks, the forest shielded them from being easily seen from the street they had come from. Her eyes could not stay open the moment her back hit the ground. Only to be startled open again, when an arm slid underneath her head tilting it up. Erador’s face swam into her view.

“You haven’t slept at all in the last couple of nights,” he whispered when she raised a questioning eyebrow.

“I do not know how you want to influence my dreams?” What would he know?

“There is no way for me to influence your dreams,” he shifted them so that her head was nestled into his shoulder.

“But I have seen my mother do this when one of my siblings or I had a nightmare,” at that she had to scoff. She was no child!

“At least let me try,” he spoke into the top of her hair. She opened her mouth to retort, the words stuck in her throat though. Maybe she should let him try. After everything, she could trust he wanted her well.

“What did your mother do?” She could practically see him smiling into her hair before answering.

“She’d wrap us in a blanket, kept herself curled around us and use a calm spell.”

“A calm spell?” Now she was curious. The school of illusion. Farengar had not been able to teach her it.

 

“A weak one,” he murmured, adjusted his arm so her cloak covered her completely. Her hands were buried underneath folds of fabric now. Then one of his fingers drew circles on her forehead. It felt… oddly soothing the way he drew a path over her skin. Circles just over her eyebrows to her temples and back. Her mind started to lull, with the cracking of their small camp fire almost becoming a buzzing presence in the back of her mind. Through her eyelids she swore she saw the small greenish swirling of the magicka which ran over her forehead and seeping into her head.

 

“Your mother,” she had to lick her lips before continuing,” taught you?” Her voice barely carried over the night. Maybe he never heard her, but was the short hum he gave the answer?

She really wanted to ask him more, if he had done it often. If he did it with his sister… but her tongue was leaden and her mind was already lulled into a state between dreaming and waking.

 

_“This must be close to the burial chamber,” Faendal whispered in reverence next to her. The large hall they were in, was lit only by her mage light. Its blue glow cast a blue light onto large stone slab in front of them. It looked like a doorway to something important. A seal was in the middle of the slab with rings which had animals engraved on them surrounding it. What was the solution to this puzzle?_

_“Now the question is. How do we get in?” She retorted which earned her a helpless shoulder shrug._

_“The question which raised the Draugr,” he muttered. What? He must have seen her confused expression, as he quickly explained. “It’s a Nord expression around here. Basically means a tricky question.”_

_“Ah,” that was the only answer she could give. She liked that expression. But given how many of those draugr they had to slaughter before reaching this puzzle, she was sincerely hoping she’d no longer encounter any more questions that would literally raise any draugr…._

_“Uhm, does the journal of the guy you killed mention anything?” she had to grit her teeth. Arvel attacked them. What else was she to do? Though, Faendal had a point. The guy was in here for a reason and he probably knew how to do this._

_“We could have a look then,” she put her backpack on the floor; her mage light gently lowered itself so the contents were illuminated. Faendal’s torch had gone out a long time ago and they had not been able to find another usable torch since. The small leather bound book had been stuffed carelessly towards the bottom of her pack, underneath her healing potions._

_She began leafing through the journal. Most entries were meaningless, sums and ramblings on some events. Only towards the end was what they needed. Not that it said much either._

_“It talks about the claw,” the very one which had been fallen out of the guy’s backpack. Lucan Valerius… it sounded familiar. Squinting her eyes she tried to remember. Nothing._

_“Lucan Valerius? Do you know the person?” She asked Faendal whose eyes widened._

_“Yes, that is the Riverwood trader! Remember, the brother of Camilla Valerius,” he almost sounded disappointed in her misremembering. But now it made sense. He had mentioned thieves when she had gone through his shop. They’d return to Riverwood anyways once they were out of here. Convenient._

_“Anything else which is useful?” Faendal prodded further._

_“It says with the claw we’d have the solution to this in the palm of our hands.”_

_“Palm of our hands?” Now he sounded confused. Not that she was any better. Maybe she should get the claw out. It was easy to grab and the cold metal chilled her._

_“Do you think it is meant literally? As in the combination is on the claw?” She wondered out loud._

_“It would be incredibly easy, wouldn’t you think?” She turned the claw around. Well who would have guessed…_

_“I think that is actually the case,” she wanted to laugh. The urge was nearly unbearable, but Faendal would most likely think she had completely lost her mind._

_“What?” He didn’t believe her._

_“Here,” she held up the claw the animal combination clear on the inside of the claw._

_“That is like the worst key I have ever seen.”_

_“Right?”_

_Suddenly Faendal’s face morphed, the darkness suddenly had blooms of colour springing forth. Blue, brown, then the overwhelming smell of mint tea hit her nose. It felt like home._

_“Ayera?” The voice was feminine and a painfully familiar face suddenly came into focus. A round face, blue eyes like her own, just with wrinkles around them. No word managed to come from her throat. Where was she?_

_“Still angry about the flower?” What flower?! Her dream self crossed her arms. Which were tiny... Tiny as if she was a toddler._

_“Here,” the woman pressed a mug of steaming tea into her hands. So this was what smelled so strongly like mint. Mint tea, her favourite. Then it hit her._

_“Mother?”_

 

Her eyes flew open then. It was still night, the stars above them twinkling calmly. Her heart raced though, making her chest feel constricted. What was that? Her head was resting against the hard metal of Erador’s armor still, how had she managed to stay so still? She shifted her eyes towards where the camp fire was. The flames illuminated Bjorn’s face as he stared lost into them. Her eyes were dropping again, it seemed like her body was keen on getting as much sleep as possible.

Though, she did not get much more sleep in. Two dragon souls could never ever ignore each other for too long. So the incessant tugging in the back of her head and then Erador’s wake up sigh put her back into the land of the awake at dawn.

“Did you get some sleep in?” Erador asked her as soon as he noticed her waking up as well.

“I did,” she answered while rolling her right shoulder which had been crammed into his armour the entire night. The pressure at the back of her head hadn’t lessened. It was still a steady pounding right at the base of her skull.

 

“Good,” he muttered.

“Well, are you guys ready to go?” Sven asked them as soon as they approached the others.

“We have not eaten?” Erador sounded puzzled, seeming to voice Bjorn’s thoughts who had gathered some branches it seemed. Sven smirked.

“I didn’t mean immediately, I asked if you,” he looked at her now, “are well enough again to walk?” Was that somewhat genuine concern?

“I think I am right now,” she definitely had more energy and her stomach was growling at the prospect of food. They just couldn’t stay much longer. That dragon was close.

“Well, would you gather some more fuel for the fire?” Bjorn asked as he fed a branch to build the fire back up.

“Sure.”

They were on the road soon after. For once her vision wasn’t swaying or her eye lids closing on their own will. But the pressure on her head didn’t relieve, nor did it get greater. Worrying in itself, but the only consolation she had with this that it was not getting any closer either.

“So, how come that you never joined the Stormcloaks?” Did Erador seriously just ask that? She could not voice anything except just stare in shock at the elf. Where has this come from?

“Has this question been burning your tongue for a while now?” Sven mocked, the first one to find his thoughts again.

“Call it idle curiosity,” Erador bared his teeth while smirking back. Somehow she felt lines were drawn right now. Fevuril chuckled suddenly, earning himself an elbow in the side by Bjorn.

“Not every Nord wishes to battle brother and sister for something the one side had practically no control over.”

“I am assuming you are talking about the White-Gold concordat?”

“Aye, it meant to humiliate us.”

“Do not mistake our inaction for approval,” Bjorn spoke up now. Erador only raised his eyebrow, as if to show he wouldn’t interrupt.

“We need everyone in the Empire to battle against the Thalmor. Splitting and brewing our own mead for just ourselves is just what would make us weaker.”

 “Fair points.”

“What about you? Why are you not supporting the empire? Surely you wouldn’t want to become an outsider in your own country?” Bjorn seemed to be trying to needle out more information.

“I do not want to participate in such squabbles. As you said the enemy lies outside of Skyrim,” Ayera had to roll her eyes. Of course he wouldn’t directly say that the Thalmor were the enemy.

“Why didn’t you stay in Whiterun then?”

“I was the reason,” she had to rescue him in some way.

“Oh? Why am I not surprised,” Sven tried to lighten the mood. At least that was what she thought he was trying to do. But this hit way too close to home. She flinched and she could see him cringe apologetically slightly.

“Remember when we told you she was a Thane? After the conquest was over, we fled. The city was no longer welcoming,” she explained lightly. Technically, it was the truth.

“I’ve been wondering, how did the Stormcloaks conquer Whiterun? Probably one of the more fortified cities in Skyrim,” Fevuril asked, seemingly genuinely curious.

“While we fought on the field, we were betrayed by people who should have been loyal,” her lips curled in disgust even thinking about the Graymanes. Not that they were concerned anymore. Vignar, the pompous oaf, was now the Jarl.

“Ahhh, that would explain why the tides were suddenly reversed,” Sven sighed, tugging his backpack up again.

“If memory serves me right,” Sven squinted up at the Sun, ”we are close to a river.”

“Aye, and then we are on the path through the mountains to Markarth,” Erador added.

“Should we set up camp at the river then?” Bjorn suggested.

“Why?” Sven questioned him.

“We need to restock on water and maybe see if we can stock up on some game and plants?”

“That sounds good,” Erador admitted. Wait! They couldn’t stop! Maybe they could search a cave and hide out there in case the dragon got closer.

“Why not search out a cave?” She had to try.

“Weren’t you the one who said Falmer were active in these parts? We really shouldn’t delve in any caves,” Fevuril was quick to remind her that she had set herself up there previously. Now she wanted to curse herself.

“Ah yes, the Falmer…”

“I’d rather not deal with them,” Sven chuckled and kicked a small pebble away, which skidded across the cobble stone and into a bush.

“Me neither,” Fevuril shivered, clutching his staff more tightly. “The stories you hear about them are scary enough.”

“You have heard stories?” Stories could say a lot of things and not all of them were true.

“Well, you do hear some stuff in Winterhold,” was Fevuril’s immediate defense.

“Some stuff?” She frowned now.

“That they kidnap people and torture them.”

“And who said that?”

“Calcemo, the leading Dwemer scholar in Markarth. He had a running correspondence with some of our teachers.”

“I suppose he should know.”

“He knows a lot! Last year he made an astounding…”

“Fev,” Bjorn intervened lowly.

 

“Oh… sorry.” Erador and she exchanged a confused look. Why couldn’t he tell them? Erador only shrugged slightly and turned his attention back to the road.

They heard the river before they could see it.

“By Stendarr, I cannot wait to finally wash my beard,” Sven exclaimed which earned him three elves’ looking at him utterly confused.

“Ugh, about time. I swear an entire skeever could hide in your bush and no one would notice,” was Bjorn just teasing or being malicious? She really couldn’t tell. Erador had an amused curl around his mouth, eyes flashing with mirth.

“Maybe he should invest in a comb and hair oil,” Bjorn guffawed at this, eyes wide open and hands on his stomach as he wheezed from laughter.

“Should we buy him hair bands to make pretty ties in it as well?”

“Oy, cut it you two! My beard is flawless as it is!” She had to chuckle. Suddenly her heart seized painfully. Her head felt as if a thumb was pressing down hard between her skull and neck. She threw a glance behind her. No shadow in the sky. But the dragon was nearby.

 

“I see the river!” Bjorn called out. They had rounded a large boulder and the river wound itself through the rock bed of the Reach. Behind the boulder a stretch of grass went over to a grove behind which the Druadach Mountains could be seen to start. Her gut twisted, her heart soared and she felt the air move with beating wings.

A shadow fell over them.

She whirled around and saw the shadow in the distance now. But it was too late, it noticed that she noticed. It roared, the rest of her companions turned around.

“Run!” yelled Sven, rushing past her towards the little grove. No time!

“ _Yol Toor Shul_!” A ball of fire could be seen to form at the dragon’s maw.

“Wards up now!” Despite herself, the scream ripped from her throat at the same time her hands came up forming the blue shimmering barrier in front of her and Erador who had a dumbfounded look on his face. The flames washed over them, her ward and Fevuril’s holding strong against the onslaught.

A huge rush of air lifted her cloak hood straight off her head, Bjorn scrambled up behind her a crossbow in his arms.

“Sovngarde can wait one day for me!”

“SHUT UP BJORN!”

Erador drew his sword and hoisted his shield up, a green flash nearly blinding her before it settled down to a shimmer around him. What was that spell? She whirled around seeing the dragon straightening his wings, shifting its weight. It was turning around for them. Sparks flew from her fingers as she aimed. There could only be one of them! Her lungs filled in anticipation to shout. Blue sparks arced from her hand towards the dragon, hitting it in its neck.

“Spread out,” she heard Fevuril yell. He was unimportant. This was her fight now and the dragon knew it as well. Its eyes bore into hers as his head turned to see what had impacted its scales. She heard the click and the sound of a cross bolt shooting through the air and bounce off the belly scales.

“Aim for the wings!” She had no clue who shouted, the voices had become a blur at this point. Lightning crackled between her fingers, her blood burning from the aftershocks and the desire to consume a soul. Her hands moved from pure instinct, flinging bolts of lightning after another at the dragon, which started its descent towards them again. It slowed down, levelling itself in front of them. Still in the air. She knew what was going to come.

“Dodge!” She hurled her body to the side, landing on her side, rolling back to her feet. Erador had followed, both of them landing in front of Bjorn and Sven, as the flames hit the spot where they had been moments ago. A ward flickered before them, Fevuril having raised his staff, its tip glimmering with the flow of magic. She scrambled back to her feet, but a huge gust of wind knocked her back on her knees. The palm of her hands impacting with the stones on the ground. The others had not fared any better as she glanced over her shoulders. The dragon had flown off again to turn around, she absentmindedly noted. A clattering of steel on stone drew her attention away. Sven had lost his grip on his weapon from being thrown on his back. Bjorn was on his knees, aiming with his crossbow. An ice spike flew over her head towards the dragon, but it missed its horn slightly. _Come back here you coward_! She charged another lightning bolt, sensing the same magicka build up to her side. Erador was preparing his own spell. Two bolts went off slightly set off, but only Erador’s impacted on the dragon’s belly. She could feel the dragon’s annoyance, as it craned its long neck to fix them with its yellow eyes.

“ _Yol Toor Shul_!” This time a ball of fire formed at its mouth, not a stream of fire. She ran towards the boulder and jumped behind it, the four bodies of her companions slamming down next to her moments later as the heat of the flames flooded over her head.

The flapping of the wings filled the silence that permeated after the flames had dissipated.

“Anyone got a plan?” Velwen cried out. He held his blade in his hands again, but seemed lost as to what he could do.

“Wait here!” She instinctively called.

“What?”

“Wait, you are useless right now,” Sven winced.

“Wait for our call,” Erador yelled, charging another lightning spell in his hands. Her gaze snapped back to the dragon currently turning around to them. Her blood suddenly soared into her throat. _Fus.. Ro._. No, she must not shout! Biting her tongue, her thoughts raced to how she could bring the dragon down. The only way was to injure its wings…

“Target the wings!” She shouted, positioning her hand in front of her channeling her magic into lightning again.

“Aye,” Bjorn gave his confirmation readjusting his crossbow. He let loose, the blacking blur shot towards the dragon. It tried to dodge it. Shifting its weight to one side, the bolt missing its head, but it struck true in the wings membrane. The dragon wobbled in the air as Erador loosened his spell into the injured as hers struck its belly. Another crossbow bolt loosened and hit the wing membrane again, tearing a large hole into it. The dragon roared, as if in pain.

Erador grabbed her shoulder, yanking her backwards to her knees, his right hand stretched out in front of her and Sven. The ward came up just as fire rained down on them again. His eyebrows creased in concentration, the ward flickering against the onslaught. She fingered for her bow. Right now, she would do more good with a bow than with magic. They had to down the dragon, make it fall down. An arrow was already knocked, her muscles doing it without much thought. The dragon was making another turn around towards them, showing them its back. The scales of the back would repel any of her arrows. Wings still then, her arrow hit the bone, not the membrane. It stuck though. A small success. An ice spike flew over her head, raising her hair slightly. She pressed her lips together. Fevuril could easily spear them all in the head if he became careless. The dragon wobbled more in the air, his left wing flapping less than the right. Its weight shifted towards its injured side, the right wing trying to make up for the loss of lift. Though, from what she had seen so many times before… She had to let go of her bow.

“Run!” She screamed and turned around, yanking both Erador and Fevuril at their arms making them topple backwards. Erador landed on top of her, his armor digging painfully into her stomach, pinning her down, her lungs expelled all air inside of them. Of course…. That had to happen! Both of them sprawled out on each other. _It hurt_ … Before she should hit his shoulder plate, the massive mass of a dragon crashed onto the ground in front of them, throwing dust up clouding her vision.

She squeezed her eyes shut, the tiny particles burning in her eyes. Erador rolled off her, air rushing back into her, making her cough loudly. Tears now pressed against her lids as she crawled onto her knees squinting now to see where the dragon was. _By Auriel, she couldn’t see_!

The dust settled almost instantaneously, a huge gust of wind dispersing the haze and knocking her to the side. There was the dragon, wings spread, one hanging limply at its side. Her arrow stuck in the joint between the wing and shoulder bone. His other wing flapped, creating more turbulences. The dragon was snapping its jaw at the arrow, its neck turned away from them. Earth clumps fell from its scales. She struggled back onto her knees when its injured wing stopped flapping erratically.

A blur of a large Nord and glinting steel streaked past her, leaving her stunned in its wake as tears finally left her eyes cleaning out the dust. With a roar Sven descended on the dragon, bringing his sword down onto the beast’s neck. At least, that was what she thought was his intention. The dragon’s head swung towards him. _Where was Erador_? Smoke coming from its nostrils, Sven did not stop. He had too much momentum to stop now. He was going to get burned. He was going to get BURNED!!

Her limbs were too heavy, she was too slow. She’d never reach him in time. Neither did she know of any shouts, her blood did not boil! Her fingers felt numb as she drew an arrow, trying to aim for the dragon’s eye. _Wait_! What? The moment of hesitation cost her the window of opportunity, as she saw Erador barrel in from the side. Shield raised, his whole weight thrown behind it. He crashed right into the dragon’s maw, the metal of his shield impacting on the dragon’s teeth with a metallic thud. Its massive head was jerked to the side, the fireball that had been forming dissipating in a huge cloud of smoke. Wide eyed she stared at Erador, who pressed his shield further against the dragon. What had gotten into him?! He could have been bitten in half! That was when Sven in his wrath impacted bringing his sword down on the dragons head. The blade digging in past the scales into its flesh. The dragon roared this time, its head still being relentlessly pushed to the side by Erador.

But it hadn’t been enough to kill it. Erador had to dig his heels in further into the ground, the dragon pushing against his shield now. Sven lifted his sword away, ready to swing down again. Her bow was redrawn, the arrow hit the scales on its snout, bouncing off. Cursing she reached for her quiver for a new one, Bjorn lowering himself next to her aiming his crossbow as Fevuril shot an ice spike into the injured shoulder.

The screech was inhuman, high, birds fleeing from the tree tops. The dragon snapped its teeth against the shield, making a shrieking noise when tooth scraped metal. She had to wince and she could see Erador squeezing his eyes shut in pain. He had to grit his teeth and dig his heels further into the ground as the dragon pushed back. Before Sven could swing again though, the dragon lifted its uninjured wing swiping at the Nord. It caught him straight across the chest sending him a few steps back, the momentum of another swing lost. Sven wheezed out a breath.

If she could only counter the dragon’s Thu’um with her own! They could do without though.

Her arrow struck true this time, in the flesh underneath the dragon’s eye. Its eyes fixed on her. She had to swallow for her blood sang with what she knew was the dragon summoning a shout. Directed at her. Her bow fell to the floor, she thrust her hands in front of her.

“ _Yol Toor Shul_!”

The ward was just up in time when flames impacted on it. Where the others were she did not know. She just hoped they had jumped just in time. _Erador, please be safe_!

The dragon was still where he had been when the flames had dissipated, Erador nowhere to be seen. Her chest constricted. _No_! Where? Oh no, tears pricked in her eyes. Her vision narrowed in on the beast in front of her and her mouth pulled into a snarl. So be it. It wanted a duel, it would get one.

Sparks flew round her fingers, blue arcs connecting her to the dragon’s head, rage fueling her magicka. The ground shook underneath her feet as the massive weight of the dragon crawled towards her, maw open. She unleashed another lightning bolt, her ears ringing. It sounded like water. Was it shouting? No, this dragon had to die and it will be by her hand! Lightning crackled around the dragon, charging the air, her hair flew around her from it. Then the dark shape of the dragon was above her, maw open, the teeth glistening from the lightning. She could see she had hurt the dragon, its mouth bleeding from the lightning she had already thrown at it. Just another bolt!  Her hand was out and… nothing. Her blood didn’t surge, her magicka didn’t rush. No… Move! Her feet moved, but before she could get anywhere, something massive impacted her side. Sending her tumbling to the side, skidding across the grass and stones with whoever had rescued her. Her temple came to stop on a stone. It hurt, all air had left her lung.

She heard a yell, she opened her eyes and saw Sven swinging at the dragon’s lower jaw, catching it in the bone throwing its head away from them. Her left arm shook as she propped herself up on her elbow. She had to get up and fight. The dragon had to die by her hands and no one else’s. A hand landed heavily on her waist, making her collapse back onto her side.

“Are you mad?!” Erador? Was that his voice? He was alive? Her mouth fell open in surprise as his face swam into her vision.

“You could have died, you madwoman!” It really didn’t matter to her right now what he called her. He was there. She almost forgot the dragon was there. Then she was yanked roughly to her feet, stumbling clumsily beside him. Several crossbow bolts littered the dragon’s shoulders. Blood seeping from it. The dragon didn’t have much longer. Her mouth pinched in a determined line. They had to finish this.

She tried again, her magicka bubbling back to the surface at her command. Lightning coupled with Erador’s at her side they unleashed pain onto the dragon’s shoulder with the cross bolts in it. Fevuril was suddenly at her side frost swirling around his fingers, his brows creased in concentration. Erador rushed back in, sword and shield back in his arms, ready to assist Sven who had trouble keeping out of reach of the dragon’s teeth.

Her body surged after him. As if on instinct. Her hands still outstretched. She restrained herself though, she was no use to them in melee. As she had just proven.

Suddenly Sven screamed, her blood chilled at the sound. It was as if he was dying. Her spell died in her hands when she saw why he was screaming. She could feel Bjorn faltering as well.

The dragon had his teeth in his armor round his middle, blood splattered on the ground. With horror, she saw Erador hacking on the dragon’s mouth. Was he trying to get the dragon to release him? The injured shoulder fell back into her vision. Her dagger was in her hand before the thought was there consciously. She hurdled her body through the air towards the joint joining the body with the wing bones. The blade stabbed right down through the joint, hot blood shooting up in her face. But she got what she wanted. A roar split through her ears. Had he released Sven? She hoped so. She yanked the dagger out and darted out of the wing’s furious trashing.

Erador had his shield smashed back into the dragon’s right side of its face. He had thrown his body between the dragon and Sven when it had released the Nord who was now lying screaming on the floor. Bjorn was at her side in an instant, the both of them grabbing Sven underneath his arms dragging him out of harm’s way. The ground tainted red underneath Sven. They only dragged him further to the side, not out of danger. But she needed to close the wounds now or he’d bleed out on them. As he was right now, rapidly.

She knelt down, her hand hovering over the punctures in his armor. Removing it would waste too much time.

“Can you give me cover, Bjorn?” She stared at Bjorn who nodded, fear seeping through his posture. Metal clashed with dragon scales, her neck itched but the spell was initiated. She could not afford to break it off now. Sven groaned as his abdomen and chest knit themselves back together. Blood had come out of his mouth.

“How is he?” Fevuril was now at her side, adding his own healing spell to hers.

“I closed his worst wounds, you can do the rest. I need to get back to the dragon,” with that she was up on her feet again. Both Bjorn and Erador kept the dragon’s attention on them. She’d only crowd them there. The dragon’s back though. Where the hind legs joined the main body, there was a small vulnerable patch of flesh. She ran to where she saw her boy and a few arrows lying. Grabbing it, she knocked an arrow and hurried over to where she knew she could get a clear shot.

Hidden between the brownish and golden scales, there was spot she needed to hit. She drew the bow, aimed and released. Her arrow flew forth and struck true. She lifted her right hand away from the bow string releasing a lightning bolt into the wound. Hopefully it weakened the dragon further.

What she should have known though. What she should have known from years of knowing and fighting dragons. She forgot that moment.

The dragon swung out with its tail, catching her straight across the chest. It sent her flying, her bow slipped from her surprised fingers. She squeezed her eyes shut. The impact was going to hurt. That she already knew. If she could just breathe!

Air whistled past her until she… SPLASH. She ripped her eyes open in surprise. Wha… Then water was in her mouth, in her nose. Closing in around her. Her muscles burned and prickled from the impact, refusing to obey. _Move, she had to get to the surface_! Water filled her lungs. Her body convulsed as her arms swung wildly against the cold water. But she still kept sinking. The surface growing further from her, dark tendrils of her dye a stark contrast against the near white and blue above her.

The sound of two bodies diving into the water near her was dull, columns of white bubbles rising from them. Then hands were gripping at her, raising her out. Water rushed out of her, as she broke the surface. Coughing, she barely noticed that she was dragged to the shore where she collapsed onto her knees shivering. By Auriel, her chest hurt so much. Hopefully no ribs were broken.

She was still gasping for breath, water still dripping from her brows when she saw what happened to the dragon. It was dead. Erador’s sword sticking out of its skull, its maw open as if it had wanted to shout at that moment of death. Where was he? Looking up she saw who had dragged her out. Fevuril and Bjorn, who looked confused. Sven was sitting up slightly, his face still deathly pale, looking surprised.

Erador, he was right in front of her. There was shock, hurt and … rage? What? Why? She… the dark tendrils she had seen when she had been in the water. The dye! Now she remembered. She squinted her eyes and… her hair was white. Now she noticed her ears felt… more windy. Everything she had hidden so far now exposed. No Breton, no. But an Altmer Halfling. Her stomach plummeted. She was screwed. This was bad. The dragon! Eyes wide she looked straight past her confused and angry travel companions. It took a second.

The distinct crackling sound she knew and had avoided for the last year. A void opened up in her void. She did not want this!

Erador and Fevuril whirled around first. Then Bjorn and Sven, both their mouths falling open. She could only hang her head in shame, as light streamed out of the dragon and rushed towards her. It hurt! Her blood raged and boiled. Her ears rang. Her lung expanded as if it wanted to shout. The word… Her head spun as she saw the word in front of her. _Faas_ …Fear. By the gods, she felt as if her whole being was being burnt from within.

She barely noticed that she had collapsed on her side, twitching trying to contain herself and not start to shout. Lydia had once been thrown into cliff wall.

It took an eternity until her ears stopped ringing. Even then she could barely move, her limbs screamed in pain. But she could see her companions crowding her now. Faces twisted in shock, horror and anger. Erador’s in particular… It felt as if he was holding her heart in hands and incinerated it. He looked betrayed and hurt. And there was nothing she could do or say right now. Physically impossible.

The moment was gone though, when his face twisted into something feral. Fear gripped her now, as he grabbed her by the arm yanking her up. Her head rolled back, her muscles not responding anymore.

“You?!” He yelled, eyes ablaze in fury.

 

“Dragonborn?” Sven sounded unsure more than anything else. She could not see, her head still craning at an uncomfortable angle towards the sky. Oh gods, she could not move…

“What?” Bjorn had managed to pick his jaw up from the floor it seemed. Suddenly she was being shaken, her head flying to the sides as Erador shook her. Her temples started throbbing, her neck strained while the base of her head sent out daggers of pain into her brain.

“Are you?!” He yelled again. Could he not see she could not move? Anger boiled up inside of her. How dare he?! She was more powerful than either one of them, all she needed to do was… No, no. That was the dovah sil talking.

“She cannot speak,” Fevuril suddenly interceded, the shaking stopped suddenly. The pain did not go away though. Then the hands on her forearms were gone, her support keeping her vanished and she fell to her side again. Head and body aching so badly. Wet and shivering she lay in front of four people who had just realized she was Dragonborn. How pathetic she must look. Cold fingers touched her cheek, tingling with a healing spell.

“I suppose we have to wait until she can answer us,” he continued.

“Why?”

“I do not know, but yelling at her now won’t get us any answers.”

“She lied to the all of us!”

“And can you blame her? We voiced our disapproval of her in Morthal.”

She could hear awkward feet shuffling.

“Though I am surprised she did not tell you,” she could hear the obvious question of why directed towards Erador. There was no answer. Her stomach plummeted further making her heart stutter.

“So we set up camp here?” Sven asked, teeth clenched. All she could see were their boots.

“Do we have a choice?”

“I will carry her,” Erador spoke up suddenly. No emotion in his voice and she felt afraid of him again. A Thalmor who was angry. After all the progress in their relationship. All gone now. _Though, it had been inevitable_.

She could see Erador’s ebony boots stomp over to her, his presence raising her neck hairs. His arms slid underneath her knees and her shoulders, lifting her up. Her head hung down, straining the skin on her throat. She could not see Erador, nor could she feel his breathing due to his armor.

“Someone get my sword.” It took a moment, then she heard metal being withdrawn from bone. Her eyes finally obeyed her and she glanced over to the skeleton. Bjorn had the sword in his hand, while Sven was shakily getting up with Fevuril’s help. Their eyes met. His eyes softened. Then hardened.

“You owe us some answers, lass.” She had held no other illusions of otherwise.

The walk to whatever site they were going was done in ice cold silence. Her body still warring with its soul. She saw herself being carried through trees, the yellowish light of sunset shining through the leaves. Then she was laid down, not gently, onto a patch of grass, her face still turned away from any of them. The cool grass pressing into her cheek, a relief from her burning insides. Boots stepped into her vision and Erador’s shifted himself down so she could see him. He still looked angry, but the touch on her cheek was… affectionate? She was confused.

“Can you move?” His thumb was on her cheekbone now, directing her face up. If she could she’d have shaken her head. Now she could only resort to communicate with her eyes. If that was even helpful?

“No?” he sighed.

“Why?” it was soft, it sounded so… hurt. No tears came, even though she wished now they would come. Maybe he’d understand. But what there was to understand she could not even say at the moment. Slowly he unclasped his cloak from his neck, bunching it up and lifted her head to push it underneath.

Bjorn intruded in her vision field.

“Is she still out?”

“Yes,” Erador sighed, withdrawing his hand.

“You didn’t know anything?” Sven asked as he limped onto Fevuril’s shoulders towards them.

“No,” Erador answered, looking back.

“How is your chest?”

“Could be better. Ayera had healed the worst I think,” then he winced.

“Though,” he now looked to her, giving her an assessing look. “Nevermind, we will have to wait for you anyway.”

Bjorn stared at her though, she could feel the tension now.

“Does it matter? We all know what she is now! Dragonborn! AN ELF!” He spat onto the ground, the spit landing close to her nose. Anger bubbled up inside of her. How dare this… worm insult her!

“Hey!” Erador’s boots were suddenly in front of her face again, she’d have flinched if she could have.

“She owes us an answer where she had been the last few years!” Bjorn was angry, fury seeping through.

“We know! But right now she can’t!”

“Oh, of course. The elf has to rest before she can be questioned! She’s weak. How can she be the Dragonborn?”

“Bjorn,” Fevuril started tiredly now, “only she can answer us that.”

 With a huff, Bjorn stormed off. Fevuril sighed heavily.

“Sven, I need to look at you again,” he changed the topic abruptly. Sven groaned as he was lowered by Fevuril against a tree stump. The gold light of a healing spell stabbed her eyes.

“Hmmm, we did all we can. But… we need get you both to a settlement as soon as possible,” Fevuril sounded concerned. How bad was it? Were organs damaged? She had seen Danica do it once with a Whiterun Guard who had been mauled by wolves once. Maybe she could be of help.

“How bad is it?” Bjorn asked now. All attention off of her now. Thank Auriel.

“He has lost a lot of blood and,” a slight pause as he scrunched his brows together, “slight internal injuries. I cannot treat this. We need an alchemist for this.”

“Can’t magic fix this?”

“This is highly advanced healing magic. I have not studied that far and me experimenting would only do more harm than good. Can you Erador?”

“No. I am sorry.”

“Well, we need a campfire,” Bjorn spoke slowly now. As if he was in deep thought.

“Aye,” Erador stepped away now, then added, “You are coming with me.”

“What why?”

“I do not want you anywhere near her for now.”

Bjorn scoffed. “Fine! But you all agree she needs to answer!”

“We all are with you in this!” Her stomach sank, while burning still. She was alone in this, it probably was best if she started to think hard and fast. The truth will taste bitter for them.

 

It took her hours until she was finally able to move again. The burning had given way to the cool evening air, her lungs soothed as she kept breathing. Arngeir, he had once told her that the breath was vital. She always remembered that, but… in moments like this she was glad for the wisdom. Slowly, she propped herself up on her elbow. Her head swam for a moment from dizziness.

It was all that was needed for her companions to snap their attention to her. Erador was immediately at her side. An arm snuck underneath her right arm, propping her up more comfortably.

“So, can you talk now?” Fevuril asked.

“Aye,” her throat hurt and it rasped.

“So…” Silence hung over them as the fire crackled merrily between them. How often would she have to be in this position?

Surprisingly, Sven was the first to find his questions.

“You are Dragonborn?” She only raised a weak eyebrow. Did he really need to ask her that? After all he had seen?

“Yes I am,” maybe he just needed the confirmation from herself. Not that she blamed him.

“Why did you leave Skyrim to fend for itself?!” Bjorn. Of course, he had to ram the Warhammer right into the problem.

“I did not,” she had to draw a breath, exhausted she raised her hand and smoothed her hair out.

“Then explain why no one could say what you were doing for years!”

“Look, have you seen how difficult it is to fight a dragon? I was alone all these years! I cannot deal with so many dragons on my own. The one who had been with me died!”

“Who?”

“My housecarl,” tears pricked at her eyes now. Oh Lydia.

“How did she die?”

“She died when we were confronted by a dragonpriest,” at that Fevuril sucked in a deep breath, as did the rest.

“Oh.” How could they not understand? She was not trained enough. How could she? There never had been enough time! Dragon there, dragon here. All she did in two years was run after them. Nearly dying, constantly in pain from the souls. Infiltrating Thalmor, pissing off the Blades. She had no allies in this.

“And what? How could you have not found someone else to help you?”

“I had to go into hiding soon after her death. Ulfric Stormcloak invited me to Windhelm for a feast. I told you we parted on bad terms. But only because I refused to fight on his side. I wanted to have no part in this war for I had a completely other fight to fight. I was insulted for what I am. A half elf.”

“Hence the disguise?”

“Yes.”

“What happened back there? Why couldn’t you move?” Fevuril asked now.

“It always happens when I absorb a dragon’s soul. I do not know why it is. It had been too long since a Dragonborn actually fought a dragon. No one knows anything.”

“I see.”

“Where are you going to now? If Ulfric is after you, like you once said, what now? Whiterun has fallen. The war will only get worse now,” Bjorn asked now.

“I…” before she could continue, explain she needed more training, Erador spoke up.

“She is coming with me. Out of Skyrim. I have told you before, Dragons are everywhere. She will not be safe here anymore,” and then with a short glance to her. “She is not ready. No formal training in any combat or anything.”

“How?!” Sven and Bjorn exclaimed simultaneously. Of course, he had to explain it for her

“When I was revealed as Dragonborn, I was thrown right into combat against a dragon with the assistance of guards. Then I was assigned a housecarl. Straight after I was pushed to go to the Greybeards. No time to rest or prepare.”

“And she didn’t train you?”

“We tried. Whenever we could she would show me how to handle a sword. Then everything happened so fast. We ran from place to place, no time to sit down and practice. She died. Dragons got away from me, and when I defeated them alone I could not move for hours.”

“Still doesn’t answer why you didn’t find someone else?”

“I…,” she swallowed. They really wanted to know why? Fine, she’d tell them the whole ugly truth.

“I knew I was not Dragonborn.”

“Wait what?” Bjorn sounded confused now. “But you absorbed the dragon’s soul. You are!”

“Or I thought I was not. After so many failures, do you really think I could go on? I forgot who I was then. Left my home in Whiterun for months on end and when I returned, always under disguise. What and who I was as Dragonborn vanished and people started to see another person.”

“Did anything change?”

“No… yes.”

“What now?” Sven asked, eyebrows raised.

“I met Erador here. He offered his help.”

“Well, I offered her help because I thought she was the friend of the Dragonborn.”

Silence hung over them after that. Then Fevuril perked up.

“Why did you do it?” She could feel Erador tense now. They would not accept a Thalmor extending a helping hand.

“My organization believes that dragons are going to destroy us all if we do not do anything. They gave me a mission to find the Dragonborn and now that I found her I will escort her to them.” Was he mad?

Sven got a suspicious look now.

“What organization are we talking about?”

“You are a Thalmor?” Bjorn had caught on it seemed, distrust open on his face.

“Yes I am.” Sven had his hands on his sword and Bjorn his crossbow in his hands now. No! She grabbed Erador’s other shoulder.

“Please! No!” She had to beg now.

“Ayera, he is Thalmor! They would never ‘help’ you!” Sven explained, the two of them circling the fire now. Erador slowly retreated with her, the hand that wasn’t supporting her drew his sword. Oh gods, they could not start murdering each other!

“He has saved me more than once!” She lifted her hand up as to appease the approaching warriors.

“Aye as did she. I will not betray her, I swear it,” Erador said softly now.

“Why should we trust a filthy Thalmor?” Bjorn taunted now.

“I would have never expected you to trust me, but it would have only been a matter of time before you realized who I was given that you now know who she is.”

“Damn right you are, you…” before Sven could utter an insult, she threw him a death glare. She had no idea why she was so…protective all of the sudden. But it really didn’t matter to her anymore.

“Ayera, think about it. The Thalmor would never ever train you!”

“We have suffered under the dragons as well!”

“Please spare us,” Bjorn griped now. “The dragons…”

“They have reached as far as the Isles. Entire villages have been razed to the ground. You Nords know it best. The bringers of the end times. And we have a Dragonborn here!”

“Do you really want us to believe you won’t lock her away?”

“Please, if that was my intention she wouldn’t be alive right now.”

They were still retreating away from the two Nords now. Fevuril behind them, following them cautiously.

“Guys, she said it herself. She needs training. No one here can give it to her, why not let her…?”

“Fev, don’t start this non-sense. We can find people here in Skyrim. Anywhere is better than with the Thalmor!”

“But no one offered! No one!”

“She has us now!”

“And? What can we really teach her? We all three never received a full education in anything! And we all know another Dragonborn has been proclaimed and she was declared a false one. Have you forgotten the news from Whiterun?” What? She was confused now and she shared a questioning look with Erador. How fast did such news travel?

“So your plan is just to let her go?” Sven sounded incredulous, his sword was lowered though.

“Do we have any other choice? She is our only hope… if what you told me that one night about the dragons.”

Sven bit his lip now, Bjorn seemed like he wanted to stab something. She really could not blame them. The Thalmor extending a helping hand. Ridiculous, but… Erador seemed trustworthy. He’d never betray her.

“Please, I… know he will never betray me. You have to believe me,” she could feel Erador squeeze her side gratefully.

“He could have manipulated you!”

“No! He… showed me.”

“Now that is hard to believe,” Bjorn deadpanned.

“He showed me a dragonscale from a dragon that had attacked a town in the Isles,” that made bjorn pause this time.

“So… he offered you help, actual training and you just believe him?”

“I don’t really have another choice.”

“I…,” Sven started, his stance unsure now. Her gaze snapped to him. He licked his lips nervously.

“Bjorn, I think we might have to let her do this. Training doesn’t mean… she has to work for them right?”

“The agreement was we would give her sufficient training and she’d get rid of the dragons,” Erador confirmed, still keeping her close by.

“What then?”

“She will be free to be where she wants.”

“Sounds so unlike the Thalmor,” this time Fevuril snapped. Erador sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I do not need you to believe me, but she needs the training for all of us to survive.”

“You are just another mindless Thalmor!” Bjorn accused him this time, his finger pointing directly at him. Fury flared up in Erador’s eyes and she gripped his shoulder again and pressed herself against him, bodily keeping him from lunging at the Nord.

“I am an elite soldier of the Altmeri army. Do not mistake me for an agent.”

“What’s the difference?” Sven dismissed him with a scornful look.

“The Thalmor is our government, the army is the sword and shield of our people,” he sounded proud this time.

“We still do not trust you,” Fevuril said slowly, his hands wrapped tightly around his staff.

“Well I do not need your trust. I need hers and I trust her back,” if it weren’t such a precarious situation she’d be happy at the admission. Just…if need be they had to flee. Even though her knees were still wobbly. They wouldn’t get far.

“Bjorn, Fev,” Sven started again, “I think the best way to do this is us making sure she gets the training and is not locked away.” Bjorn and Fevuril looked at him as if he had gone mad. She looked to Erador who looked as if he had been caught off guard.

“Are you insane?!” Bjorn threw his hands up.

“For once I agree with Bjorn.” Fevuril only shook his head.

“If we are there and they do something shady, we can get her out,” Sven kept going.

“Sven… Do your really think they would let us go with her?!” Fevuril argued back.

“Actually,” Erador interceded now, the three snapping their heads back to him. “They never said anything about companions.” It only earned him suspicious stares.

“And we should believe you’d actively subvert your own government?” Erador sighed in defeat.

“Take it as you want, but,” he looked to Sven now, “he actually proposed something… reasonable.”

“I am confused,” Fevuril admitted now, sitting down.

“I am her guard now, assigned by the heads of government themselves. Any reinforcement is welcome,” he grinned at the three now.

“Pff, I am not some glorified guard!” Bjorn protested, “Especially not to her!” She winced since she really could not blame him.

“Sounded like something the way you tried to persuade her to not go with me.”

“I will go with her,” Sven glared at Bjorn now who threw him a horrified look.

“You cannot be serious!”

“This is for our home. I cannot walk away from this. No, I will make sure she can get this done until my last breath,” but then he turned his attention towards her and she froze, “but do not take this as me being a guard. We are equals. You are a coward, running from your duty as Dragonborn.”

It hurt. The accusation seriously hurt. Though she had nothing to say in her defense. She hung her head in shame.

“Just think about it Sven, you’d go the Isles. If they do something with her and she needs to get out. Do you really think you and him can get her out? On your own?”

“She will not go to the Isles at first,” Erador piped up now.

“Hang on? Where else?”

“Auridon. No outsiders are permitted to step on the Isles, except maybe her. Not after the decree after the Oblivion crisis.”

“Auridon…?”

“Has a direct ship line to Daggerfall. Should there be a need for escape, there is one.”

Now she had to step in.

“Hang on, who said I’d let them manipulate me?”

“Well…” Fevuril started, giving her a sympathetic look, “you might not notice. Or worse, be under influence. Or…” Anger pooled into her chest, expanding her lungs.

“Do you think me so weak not to detect anything like that?” She now looked to Erador. They needed to have a talk. Without those three.

“My decision is final. You can accept my companionship and maybe… friendship later on. You seemed reasonable enough before.” She gaped. Where was this coming from now?

“Ehhh, Sven? Has the dragon rattled your wits?” Bjorn seemed lost now.

“No, she is not a completely different person now. All I see is a scared elf who had gotten too much to chew on at once. I need to do this for our village, for our home.”

“By Stendarr, you really have to gripe on about your honour?”

“We could not protect them!” Bjorn’s entire demeanor softened.

“Where you go I go, you know that,” then threw a look to Fevuril.

“What do you think?”

“I think… that you all are mad and should be knocked over the heads! I agree with you Sven. But to step right into the enemy’s territory?”

“Auridon has a history of having other races living in their cities, you will not be too noticeable.”

“Why would you try and get us with you?” Erador got a far off look now.

“My loyalty lies to her now. I am honour bound to protect her.” She could only shake her head. All this talk about honour and protecting her. She didn’t need servants!

“I do not need people following me because they must! If you won’t help me because you want to help _me_ , then stuff it up your mead addled brains!”

“Ayera, you know this is no longer about my duty anymore,” what Erador meant by that she really did not want to dive into right now.

“Girl, the Dragonborn is you! How can you not see that?” She bristled at that.

“I am not just the Dragonborn! You are just following a title and I refuse!”

“Ayera, we have been wandering Skyrim for a few days now. I thought we could be friends given more time! You said yourself you needed help and we are offering it! Because we want to. Not just because we are honour bound. We have no home, no real purpose.”

“And you are just deciding to follow me to Auridon? Before you demanded answers! Even called me a coward!”

“We are angry, and we still are,” Fevuril chimed in now. “But we also understand why you did what you did in the end. The best is to move on and see what can be done from now on.”

He took in a deep breath. “I feel like this is the best course for now. Us accompanying you. You will need the help.”

She bit her lip and looked to Erador who pleaded silently with her. What were his thoughts? His loyalty was only to her now? She thought it was to his home? Everything whirred around in her head and… she really didn’t want to think too far ahead.

“How about you three think long and hard about this?” She suggested weakly now.

“I suppose we could,” Fevuril offered. “We need to get to a settlement in the next few days. Sven and you need to be looked at.”

“Erador, can we look at your map?”

“Right,” he slowly let go of her and she staggered over to where she had sat before. This had robbed her of nearly all energy. Paper rustled as Erador drew it out of his backpack and laid it out on the grass in front of her. The others shuffled around.

“We should be here,” Bjorn pointed to the border of Heljarchen and the Reach.

“So… the next settlement will be Karthwarsten,” Sven said slowly.

“Right through Forsworn territory,” Fevuril added swallowing heavily.

“Are there any others?” Erador asked squinting down at the map.

“No, well there are but we’d have to go further south and Karthwarsten is isolated enough for us to recuperate away from the war.”

“We’ll have to go to Solitude straight after,” Erador said moving his finger to the symbol titled Solitude.

“Are you hoping to get a ship?”

“Yes, before the winter storm season begins,” he said in thought, brows creased.

“The war will progress faster now,” she mused out loud. “Whiterun has fallen. Falkreath and Morthal… Their defenses won’t hold out at all. Markarth might be the biggest for them to chew on. But… with Whiterun gone? Ulfric will win this war now. The empire has lost.”

“You are rather pessimistic,” Bjorn commented now.

“I think it is best to be pessimistic than too optimistic in this,” she answered back.

“I wish this was all easier. Maybe you can be trained in High Rock? Not necessarily with… _them_ ,” Fevuril complained. She sighed. Frankly, she’d rather not be too dependent on the Thalmor either. But what was dependency compared to the end of the world? A thought she should not feel conflicted about. Her duty was clear in that regard. No matter the cost on her part.

“Sven? Can you get until Solitude?” Erador asked now. Sven winced as he had lowered himself again, clutching his side where the upper teeth had punctured through his armor.

“No, Solitude is a week’s foot marsh away from here. We need a day or two of rest. My wounds and … we all need to really sit down and talk about this further,” he gave her a meaningful look now.

“Maybe there will be other options. Maybe all we need is just a good tankard full of mead to get them,” Bjorn added, hope lacing through.

“Spoken like a Nord,” Fevuril joked suddenly, eliciting a small laugh from her. Of all things, that made her laugh. So absurd and somehow she could only feel grateful to Fevuril for trying to lighten the mood.

“It works!” Sven defended Bjorn loudly, wincing from having raised his voice. Now Erador broke into raucous laughter. She smiled now. Though it fell the same moment, they would have a talk. Deep in her gut she knew she’d get next to no sleep tonight.

 

As she suspected Erador volunteered for the first watch. None of the others complained, Sven immediately started snoring as soon as his eyes closed. She didn’t even pretend to go to sleep. There was no need to as she held his eyes. After Fevuril finally started to slip into deep sleep, he slid down next to her. Their shoulders brushing against each other.

“How are you feeling?” He whispered, his left hand hovering over her head. Was he hesitating to touch it?

“My legs still feel weak,” she answered truthfully. Then she looked up to him, though she could only discern shadows where his face would be.

“Ayera, why did you not trust me?” He sounded hurt… and lost. Her heart clenched and she had to lower her head.

“How could I? You basically kidnapped me at first,” he sighed and his hand touched the crown of her gently tilting her head towards him.

“I am sorry,” he murmured into her hair now. “Why did you never run? Was it because I showed you that dragon scale like you said?”

“Aye. I went with you to see if I could trust you and I wanted to tell you then. After Whiterun I wanted to tell you and then the opportunity never arose.”

“Still. I feel like you are a stranger now, but when you look at me it is as if nothing changed.”

“Nothing changed.” He sighed, his breath ghosting across her temple.

“At the same time everything did. You are who I searched for. I… am confused. I feel like I _know_ you, but at the same time I don’t,” she pressed her face into his shoulder now, her heart racing. Oh gods, was he going to push her away now? Could she really blame him? No… and it hurt to even think about the possibility. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“I did not lie. My loyalty is to you,” he gripped her right hand and squeezed it, but released it. Her skin prickled at the loss.

“But?” she asked. It hung between them.

“I need time, Ayera. All this time I thought I would have to leave you behind at one point and now you are the Dragonborn.”

“Time?” She asked hopefully. Did that mean he was not completely rejecting her?

“Aye. A lot changed. Not just you. I just need time to think and sort it all out.”

“Is there something you need to tell me?” His lips were now at her temple. Her eyes widened.

“Not yet. This is personal. But as I said my loyalty is to you. That is all you need to know for now,” she frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Her fingers were now at the neck of his cloak.

“I am sorry. I truly am.”

“I believe you. I just wish you could have told me earlier.”

“I did not want to believe I was the Dragonborn either,” his arm on her head lowered to her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. She took a deep breath. The familiar earthy smell from Erador calmed her a bit.

“But you are. Is this because of Whiterun?”

“I wish I could answer you. It all started with Lydia, maybe even before.”

“A dragonpriest…”

“I wanted to learn a Word of Power. The Thu’um. Thought I could learn to accept it all through learning everything,” the words spilled from her now, “But it never worked and then she died. I buried her outside.”

“You never accepted being the Dragonborn?”

“I… thought I did. Maybe I didn’t.”

“Did you ever think…” he stopped then he shook his head, “No. I don’t know enough.”

“What?”

“Maybe… dragon souls hurt you because you reject that part of you.” She stopped breathing for a moment. It made sense? Somehow? But she knew she was Dragonborn. How could she go that one step further?

“I do not know how.”

“Let us help you?”

“They only do it because they don’t trust us,” she fired back quickly.

“Maybe? I do not know myself. But motivations change,” he sighed tiredly now. Her back stiffened. Was he implying something? No. Could not be.

“You should sleep. We will go to this place called Karthwarsten. As Sven said, we all need somewhere safe to talk about it all.”

“Yes.” He lifted his head up putting it on hers.

“Do you need me to sleep?” He asked suddenly. Another breath, as her chest tightened at the offer.

“I would be grateful,” though she doubted the dreams would be horrifying with the dragon now dead.

Only though, she wanted him to be near. Even if only for tonight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, leave a kudos if you like it. Constructive criticism if there is something that can be improved. I'd appreciate it.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I apologise this took so long. Had to learn to juggle school work, social life, new ideas alongside with this. I won't abandon it (it is my baby after all) but I needed a break. Especially because I need to plot before a major conflict happens.

* * *

 

Karthwarsten. Ayera had to take a deep breath. Last time she had been here, the Forsworn had surrounded the town waiting to strike. The few guards and miners? Would have been mincemeat in two seconds. The Silver-bloods had made sure that no guards had come for backup. Now that had been years ago. No Forsworn had dared set a foot into the village again.

_Good_ , she thought grimly, meant that they had learned their lesson. It had taken her three words to chase them off. If she was here, the miners were safe. Safe from Forsworn, not from others. She’d have to work on that. Sighing she turned to Erador who had a closed off look on his face the last couple of days. Shut off from everyone, even her. Ever since that night. Said he needed to think. Her gut seemed to know, but her head hadn’t arrived there yet. It vexed her. She missed his closeness, her ear tips burning at the implication that she liked the intimacy they allowed themselves to have.

They had arrived when the sun hits its zenith, the miners had still been in the mines. Ainethatch had recognised her, his gaunt face setting into a deep worry wrinkles seeing her state and that of her companions.

“Ayera? What happened?” His voice sounded faint. It only made her frown. They weren’t that… torn up. Except Sven. His armor still was ripped apart in his midriff, blood smeared all over still. Fevuril and she had not dared to remove much. Their healing hadn’t extended past the initial mending. She had to go deeper with the healing spells now and that was not something she would do in the middle of a road. A roof, a fire with hot water and maybe ale to numb the pain. Without those she wouldn’t even attempt it. Even Fevuril had agreed with her when Bjorn had accused them of apathy.

He wasn’t going to die. At least not for a while. But she wasn’t going to voice that in front of them all. His insides were still torn up and right now all she needed was a good meal, some sleep and then she could start working on mending the more… complicated issues.

“Dragon,” was all she said and Ainethatch’s face drained off all colour. She could only give him a grim smile. He knew the dragon was dead now. But it did nothing to the whiteness of his face.

“Do you need a place to rest?” was all he asked. She lowered her head in gratefulness.

“I thank you for your hospitality,” she murmured and heard the others murmuring something similar.

When they finally stepped into the common house in Karthwarsten, she could practically feel the tenseness of her muscles draining away from the warmth. She practically melted at the scent of the food on the table. Her mouth watered already.

“Help yourself,” Ainethatch had followed them inside and gestured to the benches. Erador and Fevuril were seated in a flash while Bjorn and she helped Sven to sit down. He groaned when he was finally seated while clutching his middle.

The rest of the afternoon blurred into a whirl of warmth and the scent of good food in her belly. In her hazy state she didn’t notice Erador edging closer to her until his arm was around her and her head was nestled into the crook of his neck. His smell dominated everything else now and she could feel herself drifting off to a warm and contented state of sleep.

They woke up the next morning, all curled up on piles of fur around the fireplace. Her limbs felt weightless when she finally stretched herself out, hearing her spine crack in several places before she actually opened her eyes. Her elbow accidentally hit something soft and the surpised “oof,” made her head jerk around. She came face to face with a sleepy looking Erador who held his nose.

“Not how I imagined this morning to go,” he said with a yawn and she winced.

“I am sorry,” she whispered realising that the other three were still snoring softly, well Bjorn’s was rather grating. His only answer was an eyeroll and his right arm suddenly draped over her middle.

“Sleep some more. Once Sven is up you need your energy,” he muttered drawing her closer on the shared furs.

“Don’t you think I have rested enough now?” She raised an eyebrow in challenge. He huffed.

“You are still sluggish from that dragon,” she could see a concerned crease in his forehead. What happened with needing time? Or had he finally knocked things into order?

“I am fine,” she insisted and blew at a stray strand of his hair hanging into his face. He chuckled.

“Your breath smells.” Her eyes widened in shock. Did he actually just say that?  Any words that would have come out were forever stuck in her throat. Erador started chuckling, his whole body vibrating in amusement. She had to pinch her lips in order to start laughing too. Burying her head into his chest, she hit his arm playfully.

“If you say so stinky… armpits?” His body shook more in concealed laughter at her failed joke.

“Get some more sleep. Sven needs your full focus once you and Fevuril have enough strength,” he murmured into her head. That was true, Fevuril and she were not trained healers. The only thing they had was experience. This was going to be tricky. With a yawn she closed her eyes again with a steady thumping near her nose.

 

“So let me get this straight,” Sven said slowly as he finally settled on his furs after they had a filling breakfast, “this might take hours?”

“Aye,” Ayera answered back, while Bjorn and Fevuril helped Sven peel out of his punctured armour. They’d need to fix the damage, if not they needed to buy him new armour. Solitude or Markarth. Probably Solitude. More time for them there. What she’d give for news on the war. Ainethatch had promised to tell them once they were done with healing and he was done for the day running a mine.

“Is it so bad?” Bjorn asked, voice full of concern.

“No, we managed to stop the worst. But,” Fevuril prodded Sven’s side where the majority of the dragon’s teeth had been, Sven hissed in discomfort, “we need to check for internal bleeding. If we missed anything or if one of your organs was damaged. Those are slow deaths. We only prevented a fast death.”

“Not comforting!” Sven spat out, as the cuirass slipped off and the extent of his wounds became apparent. Blood had soaked into his undershirt and Ayera had to shake her head. He’d have to get a new one too. She might be able to sew him a provisional one, but he’d need to get a proper one in Solitude.

“Are we ready,” she asked Fevuril who had rolled up his college robe arms up to his elbow, his staff in his other hand.

“I am, if you are,” he threw her a quick glance as he prodded a closed wound gently. Sven winced again.

And so they began. Golden light flowing around them as their fingers skimmed over hastily mended skin willing their magic to go deeper. Internal wounds were there, but not… she had to frown when she lost her position on one of the teeth marks. There it was, slightly bleeding into the surrounding tissue still. Her whole hand was laid flat on the wound, the magic flowing through the damaged tissue, slowly mending it. It was almost like stitching in her mind. She had to be careful. Tissue that was stitched back together wrong could be fatal. How many times did she have to do this with Lydia? So many times she had lost count.

_Concentrate_.

She did not feel the sweat running down her forehead. Nor did she notice how the sun had risen and started to descend again as they both stitched Sven’s insides back together slowly. Sometimes she did feel a cool hand on her forehead though. Erador? Her mind jumped to the cool spot on her head, dispelling the haze of the magic. The pictures in her inner mind got clearer and her stitches surer.

By evening Fevuril and she practically collapsed after the final healing spell had dissipated in the air. Her magicka strained and prickled painfully in her veins, her temples throbbed from the exertion. By the end the mug of ale pushed into her clammy hands was almost so divine she nearly moaned. Nearly. Sven was tentatively stretching around and she watched over the edge of her cup to see if anything still pained him.

“Where did you learn the Restoration school?” Fevuril asked next to her, happily sipping on his own cup. She threw him a curious glance before answering.

“I learned it with a priestess of Kynareath in Whiterun. She oversaw most of the healing in the Hold,” she explained while looking to her side where Erador was talking to Sven about who would actually support the Forsworn. Men and alcohol. Why did it always lead to something political?

“We had a Restoration Master at the College. Most students didn’t really enrol in her classes,” Fevuril said. “She was always grumpy about it. Can’t say I blame her on that.”

“Why not?”

“Why not what?”

“Why were her classes not liked?” She asked. Why would someone leave out something so essential? Fevuril sighed. Was it out of sadness? It sounded almost sad.

“She was a bitter teacher,” he winced slightly, “but I cannot really blame her. None of us respected her as the master of her school. I remember the other masters actively avoiding her.”

Ayera’s eyes grew wide. That poor woman.

“Oh. I suppose she was bitter about that.”

“Yes. She died during the sack. Didn’t see the body though. Now I wish that I had treated her differently back then. I was such a jerk towards her the last time we spoke,” he whispered and her gut twisted at the unshed tears behind his voice. Why was he so open with her?

“Has she taught you well?” Maybe she could try and comfort him in some way.

“When I bothered, yes,” he admitted while taking a long sip from his cup. His eyes had a distant look to them as if he was remembering.

“And you helped Sven today. So she was appreciated,” she explained. Hopefully it would give him some comfort. His lips twitched slightly.

“If only it was that easy, but I appreciate the thought,” then he looked away. They fell into a comfortable silence while the others chattered still. The scene almost reminded her of the happier times in Whiterun.

“Did you ever lose someone close?” He suddenly asked, making her jump slightly. She sighed sadly. Lydia, Saadia… So many of them.

“Aye,” she answered, “several of them.”

“The pain doesn’t lessen.”

“Sometimes I wish it did,” she breathed out looking at Erador talking to Sven in whispers while the miners were enthusiastically toasting to Sven’s recovery. 

“Don’t we all?”

“Fair,” she conceded and emptied her cup. Her head was all fuzzy and for once she didn’t feel like doom was breathing down her neck. It was nice. For once. If she could just hold onto the feeling and never let it go. That strange feeling of safety and the strange fluttering in her stomach whenever she looked at Erador.

“So… where are we to go?” Bjorn was the first to break the content haze that they had been enveloped in. But it had to be talked about. Ayera had to suppress her annoyance. After all it had to be talked about. They couldn’t stay here forever. Summerset Isles… those were waiting for them.

“Well I have found the person I was looking for, so I would have thought we’d go to Solitude and catch the next boat out,” Erador explained. Sound logic. There was no use for them to go there. Ainethatch looked up suddenly when Solitude was mentioned.

“Good decision, a courier arrived from the Jarl today. Falkreath has fallen,” he announced, the knuckles on his hand white. Her breathing stopped. Already? It had been what? Two weeks of running? Had he immediately mobilised after the Whiterun disaster? How? Another treachery?

“Falkreath?” Velwen asked, shocked. Fevuril’s and Bjorn’s mouths had fallen open in shock while Erador looked into his cup, lips pinched and forehead creased.

“Three days ago the legion that was stationed there was defeated in open combat,” Ainethatch confirmed. Ayera had a good look at the man now. He looked like he had aged decades in the span of minutes. Not that she blamed him. Everyone knew that if Ulfric captured Markarth the Silverbloods would ascend to be the Jarl. The mine would almost be theirs if that happened. Though this time she couldn’t assassinate an entire mercenary group. By that time she’d have to be out of Skyrim. As far away from Ulfric as possible. Shit. They had to get out as soon as possible.

“So Solitude?” Fevuril asked, more like a confirmation.

“I guess?” Bjorn said, causing Velwen to nod. She just had to shrug. It was not her decision at this point anymore. She’d rather not ponder on the notion what her decisions would have been had she been on her own. To Solitude it was. They’d have to backtrack a bit on the road to get to the crossing to Haafingar, but they were closer to it than to Markarth.

It was well late into the night when she got to talk to him alone. Sven, Bjorn and Fevuril were snoring on their furs when he lowered himself next to her on the bench.

“Not sleepy yet?” he murmured, while her hands settled around his middle and she pressed her face into his shoulder.

“No. I am content as of now to just be,” she said into his shirt and his chest vibrated underneath her lips when he chuckled. Then his arm settled around her and he drew her nearer. Almost into his lap. His other hand settled on her cheek and he raised her face up to meet his eyes. Her mouth curled into a smile instinctively when his forehead settled against hers.

“What are you thinking?” she whispered, letting her breath fan across his face. His eyes closed and then opened again.

“About you, me, us.”

She had to swallow. Last time he said he had to think. After the reveal. When he knew she had lied.

“Tell me true,” he asked urgently now, ”that any concern you ever displayed was true.”

She frowned. Where was this coming from? Did he think she was that good at acting and pretending? But the way he stared into her eyes, searching for an answer she just knew that he needed an answer. One that was the truth. An easy truth to say. Even if her heart raced at the thought of saying it out loud.

“It was all true,” she answered and watched how his mouth grew into a genuine smile. It was the most beautiful sight she had seen in a while.

“I am glad,” he whispered and pressed his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes at the closeness. Just… her heart sank a bit in disappointment. Why? She couldn’t quite put her finger on the reason.

Maybe things were going alright for once. Who was she to question it? For now she was going to enjoy this moment. 

* * *

 

While Ayera enjoyed the moment in Karthwarsten, Ulfric and his trusted council were up still strategizing well into the night.

“I say we take out Morthal. One more hold and men to take on Markarth,” Galmar suggested gruffly while moving a small figurine on the map to the small Hold. Ulfric stared at it for a moment, weighing the option. Markarth would be the ideal Hold to liberate next. They needed more men and Morthal had the key route to Solitude. If they controlled this one, then they could cut off any supplies from Solitude and disrupt any enemy movements. The Forsworn would take care of the rest. But once they had Skyrim. Then Talos would smite those savages.

“It is just swamp and a crazy old crone who thinks she sees the future,” Yrsarald scoffed poking the small figurine in the direction of Markarth on the map.

“I say we take out the biggest Hold and then we also control the mountains,” he suggested further.

“Pah, and then deal with our reinforcements dealing with the Forsworn before taking Solitude?” Galmar shot back, levelling Yrsarald with an ice-cold glare.

“But if we take Morthal, we have two of the main remaining Holds surrounding us!” Galmar argued further, “we’d have to have more of our men guarding the border while we grapple with either Holds sending men from both sides.”

“My Lord, what do you suggest?” Galmar asked Ulfric now who had been quiet thus far. He frowned before moving the figurine that had been pushed to Markarth back to Morthal.

“I say we take Morthal, cut off the reinforcements from Solitude and then gear up to take over Markarth,” he shot Galmar a look who looked pleased. Yrsarald bowed his head in understanding. As he should. Both of them had failed him. If they hadn’t he’d still have a Queen. Though… if the one he suspected killed his wife had been the actual culprit, he’d find her. And with a side glance to the dark corner of the room where they were bent over the map, he saw a miniature movement. He had been listening then. Good. He had a mission for the _Dragonborn_.

“My Lord,” Yrsarald asked him directly now. What was it now? He had been rather specific in his instructions!

“Aye?” His voice was steady as he answered. Something he had gladly retained from his time in High Hrothgar. They had a war to fight. Any delay was a day more for the elves to gear up. If he could just get his hands on the little pretentious whore who had gallivanted on for so long with the undeserved title of Dragonborn, it’d even be better.

“The masons and carpenters are delayed on the road here. Their missive arrived this evening,” Yrsarald continued as if he knew nothing about his Lord’s annoyance. Another delay? This was the third now. Ulfric had to pinch the bridge of his nose to draw a deep breath. He should have expected it. The mountain pass between the Rift and Falkreath while still manageable at this time of the year, but grew more treacherous with the cold. He should know, he marched a part of his army over here while he had fought in Whiterun.

“I suppose that was to be expected,” he admitted and waved his hand dismissively. Why should he bother with the masons and carpenters? They were paid and knew what they had to do. Anything else Jarl Dengeir could deal with. He had other matters to think about.

“Speaking of letters,” Galmar suddenly spoke up and slid a letter across the table. The yellow horse of Whiterun was embossed on it. So what did the Greymane want now? Did he still have problems with the folk not accepting him as a Jarl? He threw a side glance to where the Dragonborn stood. If the worst came to be, he’d send him to deal with it.

In the end he could not blame the people of Whiterun either. A traitor for a Jarl. They just had to deal with it.

He opened the letter, breaking the seal on it roughly. Skimming through the unnecessary formalities between Jarls… Vignar really enjoyed his new position. Maybe a bit too much. Frowning he read the actual content of the letter.

So… the bounty hunters Ysolda had employed to track down Ayera, his mouth curled in disgust just thinking of the name, had returned with information. The little elf had been seen on her way to Morthal. To Morthal. Clever of her to avoid Falkreath. Too bad it will not save her.

His eyebrows shot up and fury boiled in his stomach, making his hands quiver in effort not to crumble the letter. So the elf had been in company with a Thalmor. Of course the Thalmor would be involved in this!

“So it seems like the false Dragonborn was seen with a Thalmor,” he spat the last word out as if it had been poison.

Galmar banged his fist on the table while Yrsarald glowered at the letter in Ulfric’s hands.

“That filthy elf!” Galmar thundered, the figurine toppled from the table to the floor where it broke into several wooden pieces. What a shame.

“What are we going to do about her, my Lord?” Yrsarald asked after a moment of fury filled silence.

“What we all do with Thalmor sympathisers,” Galmar interceded hotly. Death to all traitors and elves. A fitting punishment. If it were just that easy.

“My Lord, if I may?” Yrsarald asked him after moment of hesitation.

Ulfric inclined his head shortly to indicate that Yrsarald may continue.

“We have reports of our scouts going missing in the swamps around Morthal. Could it be they had encountered her and her companion?” He slowly laid his assumption on the table. Galmar frowned at it and stared at the map.

“Our troops are equipped to handle any magic user,” Ulfric scoffed in advance. Galmar however frowned at the statement.

“Our enchantments are good, but if the reports about her skill and a single Thalmor agent. My Lord, only highly skilled agents are deployed alone. Remember when we fought those fuckers back then. You could not trust any elf. Not even the ones in the army,” Galmar cautioned and Ulfric nodded. He remembered well enough the traitors. The other elves had been kicked from the battlefront after. Necessary. All of them were spies or traitors. One thing the Imperials had done right. Or should have done from the beginning.

“So what do the Thalmor want with her?” Yrsarald pondered out loud suddenly. Good question. One whose answer he was interested in as well. The Thalmor usually didn’t go out of their way to extract one who was not one of their own…. Unless she had been one from the beginning. It could be that her assault on the Thalmor embassy had just been a fluke? There would be no way the elves would admit her to their ranks after the supposed “carnage” she had caused. But then why stage… That was easy. To make it seem like she was not one of them. Clever but the rumours of more vigorous investigations from them made no sense then. What were they doing?

Elenwen was not stupid. He knew her far too well for that.

His mind went back to the missing Stormcloak soldiers. They were most likely dead, but no body no confirmation. Sighing he looked back to his map. Somehow his gut told him that there…. By Talos.

“Remember we sent scouts into the further North of the marshes,” he started slowly Yrsarald and Galmar nodding in confirmation. “And the letters from our camp there said they had arrived and left to go scout North.”

Realisation dawned on both Galmar’s and Yrsarald’s faces.

“Not them then?”

“Yes…” Galmar bent over the map again, tracing a line between Whiterun and Morthal. Given the time they had to reach Morthal… I would say they took the mountains. There is no way they could have encountered them.

“Imperials?” Yrsarald threw the obvious question onto the table rather quickly. Ulfric had to frown. It was convenient. Solitude was not far away from the Morthal shore line. If that were the case then the Imperials were shipping reinforcements over the small ocean arm. Though why? Why go through the trouble of marching troops through the dangerous swamps when there was a functioning road between Solitude and Morthal? Seemed illogical.

“No,” he said out loud putting a finger on mark that was Solitude. “There is a road leading to Morthal. They would be fools to ship their troops to the shorelines and march them through those while they have a faster route available.

“I heard they had a mage living in Morthal now. Someone who is rumoured to have dabbled into necromancy,” Yrsarald suggested suddenly. Ulfric jerked his head up to look at the commander. A necromancer? Being allowed to live in a town freely practicing? It made no sense. Then again the Jarl of Morthal was rumoured to be rather out of it. Though why did he bring it up?

“Why are you bringing it up?”

“Because if a necromancer is raising the dead and kills one of ours…” He left the rest unsaid but the chill that creeped up Ulfric’s back said enough. Someone with a motive to keep them out and with the tools will use them. Desperation drove some men to do the unspeakable. He had seen it enough times. Weak.

“A bit far-fetched,” Galmar huffed, “They’d need to die first to be raised. I don’t think a lone mage will be able to kill an entire squadron of our scouts. Especially if it is a mage that is the unofficial court mage of Morthal. From our sources he rarely leaves the town and he’d have to travel a day or two to reach our camp. There is no way he can touch them much less kill them.”

“Still, we need to investigate it. A whole squadron of scouts can’t just disappear,” Yrsarald insisted. He was right of course. But they had to use every single man in their disposal to prepare for Morthal and Markarth. The  scouts were supposed to find a route to sneak in a rear attack while the main forces would be occupied at the town entrance with the street.

Seemed like they had to do the full frontal assault. Whiterun had only worked because of the Greymanes. Ayera had been in the city during the siege. Ysolda had said as much, even shown him her house the day after. He had known she’d be back for her… things. His poor wife. The dark brotherhood had killed her. Daedra worshippers. Once he had cleansed Skyrim of the Imperial rot, he’d root out every single Daedra shrine and destroy them.

Wuunferth still had to send him a progress report on his mission. The old man had become more withdrawn after he had shut down the College of Winterhold. But he had not disobeyed him either. Yet.

“Aye, they cannot just disappear,” he said slowly. But then… Wuunferth had commented on the new apprentices. Maybe… just maybe... A smirk formed on his mouth now. To weed out the weak and cowardly… a good test.

“How about we send Wuunferth’s apprentices to find out what had gone wrong?” Ulfric suggested lightly and saw Galmar’s and Yrsarald’s backs stiffen.

“You wish to send those mages to rescue our men?” Galmar had narrowed his eyes in scepticism while voicing his subtle disagreement.

“Aye, might as well test their abilities. They should not get a pass for being mages if they wish to be deployed or to be employed as court wizards,” Ulfric reasoned.

“I can see why, my Lord,” Yrsarald started slowly, “but they haven’t had the training for it.”

“Are you saying we shouldn’t send them?”

“I am saying we should send men who _know_ what they are doing,” Yrsarald frowned while responding.

“We are sending boys to deal men’s work!”

“I wasn’t much older when I entered the Great War. They need to start young. Earn some pride and…” Ulfric glowered at Galmar now who had scoffed, “and earn a place in our army.”

“I shall send the word to him to prepare them for the mission,” Galmar relented now running a hand through his beard. He was tired. It was well past midnight now and old bones needed their rest.

“Has the new wizard in Whiterun deciphered Farengar’s work by now?” Yrsarald suddenly asked while shuffling papers together. The orders for the next day and weeks. If the gods favoured them there would be no more delays. Especially with the contracted workmen.

“My Lord,” Galmar waved him over to another map he had spread on the table.

“What is it, old friend?”

“I wish to talk about Helgen,” Galmar stated simply while jabbing a finger onto a spot on the map.

“What about it?”

“We should rebuild it.”

“We do not have the resources.”

“I have seen the reports on our resources. But there have been survivors. They can be properly motivated I am sure.”

“The survivors were for the Empire.”

“Aye, but if we show them that we are more interested in getting their homes back….” He left the other part unsaid but Ulfric had heard it nonetheless. An entire town grateful towards him? That once used to be a staunch Empire supporter. Galmar’s suggestion had merit. It’d show he would play no favourites, overshadow any favouritism he might display later on. Either way it was a sound political move. One Ysolda… He should stop thinking about her. She was dead.

“And we’d have a fortress to the imperial border…” Ulfric continued the line of logic. Even militarily it made sense. Maybe… if he split up the masons and carpenters between Helgen and Morthal, then…

No the numbers would never work. Especially if he needed to make it work more quickly. They’d have to contract more. Maybe a Thane could be awarded stewardship of the town. Just which one? A Falkreath Thane? No. Clan Battle-born was too dishonoured. One of his commanders…. Yrsarald and his lieutenant. Ralor of Riverwood. They had done enough to earn their own keep. To be the defenders of Skyrim should he be named High King after all of this was over. Talos willing with neither of his inner circle dead. One had been one too many.

“We’d have to contract more workmen to build it up. The coin is just not there, Galmar. And you know we cannot just ask that Black-briar woman to loan us more!”

“Aye and Whiterun’s coffers were disappointingly empty,” Yrsarald grumbled slightly. Vignar had been flustered when he had to explain the expenses. Combating bandits. Which were now in his pocket, so the coffers were as empty as they had been when they got access.

However, they should not be too much of a problem for now. Once the war was over, he’d need to root them out. Maybe if they went willingly be absorbed somewhere as guards or be thrown against the Forsworn.

“Have the bandits been given the new _contracts_?” He asked Yrsarald who was standing near the door now.

“Aye, the missives have gone out at noon. They should arrive in a few days,” Galmar’s tone was flat, disinterested. He disapproved of using bandits to do their dirty ground work. Even to track down Ayera he had grumbled around for days before reluctantly agreeing to it. Ever since he got really cold whenever their discussion had to go to dealing with the bandits. Yrsarald had not reacted, but Ysolda had suspected his disapproval was quieter.

The quiet ones were the most destructive. He had to keep an eye on him. Giving him Helgen later would placate him and keep him at arm’s length. Galmar would be placed in charge to make sure that the Thorryg’s boy would be _educated_ right. Elisif would be executed alongside with the General. Her son with Thorryg however would become his squire and then take over Haafingar once off age. Ensuring Haafingar would not become a problem later on ever again.  His most trusted hands placed at arm’s length. Punishment or precaution, he was not quite sure what it was. Their failure to protect Ysolda was too convenient. As if they had planned it. Their disapproval of his spouse had not been hidden. Galmar had said as much back then in Whiterun. If he had gotten Ayera on his side, he’d have a powerful spouse. A legend.

If only she had been a Nord. Then he’d have put more effort into it.

Alas she was tainted with mer-blood.

Taking a deep breath he dispelled the thought. No, they were loyal to him. They’d never think of doing something like that. But it would not hurt to take precautions. Especially If his suspicions proved right.

“You are both dismissed, we will discuss the plan to march on Morthal,” Ulfric said finally. Yrsarald and Galmar bowed slightly before leaving the room. The man in the corner moved out of the shadows. The candle light showing a passive, almost bored face.

“You have heard most of it?” Ulfric asked him even though he knew the answer already. Sometimes pointless questions were needed.

“Aye, m’Lord,” Heikvir answered almost sounding bored.

“I need you to go to Hjaalmarch in advance to gather intelligence on the false Dragonborn. Where she could have gone,” he pointed to the map.

“Do you want me to go to that village too?” Heikvir asked, his forehead creased in concentration.

“I suppose it would give you a better idea what exactly happened there,” Ulfric agreed.

“Isn’t there a group that is reporting to you?” He asked now. Good question. Ulfric stroked his beard thinking of all the groups that were now reporting to him. Was there one around the area?

Yes. One that was supposed to terrorise the outlying settlements and tie down the Hold’s resources.

“Yes, I will write a letter informing them you are on my orders. They might have information and…” He stared darkly at the man in front of him, “remind them that if they want any more gold they are overdue a report by now.”

Heikvir understood.

“Understood, M’Lord,” he nodded.

Good. Hopefully he would get some results from this. He had a war to fight. To be the man Skyrim needed and was bleeding for.

Heikvir left as soon as Ulfric had spoken any other word. Like a shadow he slipped out of the room, his black armour hiding him. A useful tool. But one he had to work more to conceal the deceit of its nature. No Dragonborn. The Thu’um was there, but neither the soul nor the blood was that of a dov.

If only Ysolda was here she’d know what to do. She’d know how to proceed to hunt Ayera down. After all they had been friends once she mentioned.

He stared hard into the candle’s flickering flame. It was as if he could see her face through it. He had to close his eyes to dispel the image. She was dead, in Sovngarde waiting for him.

All there was left now for him as revenge. And he was going to savour it once he got it. That much he vowed. By Talos, if he could inflict the suffering on that girl that he experienced then he’d gladly die for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed Ulfric's POV.   
> Do tell me what you think. Comment, kudos, anything! Anything that tells me this is worth reading. 
> 
> Also I will need a bit of time to start the new chapter. My cousin died a few days ago. I might take a bit longer in typing and just keeping a straight mind.   
> Any errors or mistakes... please point them out. I have done some editing on my part. However, I probably missed a lot. Any comments related to that are very much welcome.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey peeps, I know this took a while (sorry, please do not kill me) but I was planning and writing it. Then it went to my awesome betas!  
> [SilverChrysanth](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4873946/) and [SarcasticallyDances](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarcasticallyDances/pseuds/SarcasticallyDances)

* * *

 

Whoever said that snow storms should only start in Sun’s Dusk should be pelted with rotten tomatoes. It was seriously snowing outside, during Frostfall! They were trapped in Karthwarsten! The mountain passes were snowed in. Even if they tried to leave they’d freeze to death before they’d get anywhere safe.

Ayera could scream, not that it would solve anything. Clearing the skies was easy, but it would not clear away the feet of snow that had accumulated through the night. Shouting would just attract more dragons.

There was no winning in this situation. As much as she hated it, they had to stay put in Karthwarsten. Like trapped rabbits trembling from an approaching wolf. At least Sven was doing better each day, even walking without a too noticeable limb. If only they could leave.

Days turned into a week and by then Ayera had grown antsy. Normally the first snowfall melted before it all completely snowed in. But… it had its advantage. Ulfric could not advance during that short snow fall. Markarth was in the mountains, he’d be a fool to try and conquer it when it had the advantage. Though… he had been a fool to attack Whiterun and he had still won. She would not underestimate that Nord ever again.

The Graymanes will pay for that. How would they feel if…

A squeeze on her shoulder ripped her from her thoughts about revenge. It was Erador. She smiled slightly at him as he sat down next to her on the bench outside the main house where they all slept.

“You look like you want to burn everything away,” he teased and she had to chuckle.

 

Of course, all the snow had to go. As much as she appreciated Ainethatch’s hospitality, they could not leech off his food for much longer. Especially with winter setting in and the frosted ground not growing anything during that time. Now, all they could hope for was the usual brief warming before the deep plunge.

That would give them maybe a week to make the trek to Solitude? Perhaps Dragon Bridge, but that was a two day walk away from Solitude. They could do it, if there weren't any more dragon interruptions….

“I do want to burn everything away,” Ayera grumbled and he laughed.

“Believe me, Bjorn just asked if I could teach him a flame spell,” he said and there was barely suppressed laughter.

Bjorn and magic? That Nord was just as restless as the others; not that she could blame them. They all had been shoveling snow, from the mine’s main path to the main house and then the barracks all morning. Even when the miners had been in the mine. Ayera had to giggle.

“What, did he not want to lift a shovel?”

“He had several blisters!”

“Poor Bjorn.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. She wanted to ask him. Was he done thinking? Was he alright? Her tongue stayed though. Even Lydia needed to think about things. The whole debacle with the Forsworn had shaken her so badly that Ayera had offered to release her from her vows. In the end Lydia had rejected the offer to be released, but Ayera knew that it was only because of the circumstance. As a result most of the corruption was smoked out of Markarth at the cost of a reunited Reach under Madanach in a few decades. She knew it and Jarl Igmund had been informed. What he had done with that information was out of her control, but given how few the Forsworn attacks had grown, something must have been done. Whatever it was, it had appeased Lydia.

_Patience_.

For how long though?

“Remember when I said I would teach you telekinesis?” Erador said suddenly, staring to the white mounds they had made towards the sides of the paths, looking deep in thought.

She remembered, back at the cell in Whiterun he promised. Was he going to try to teach her now while waiting for Kyne’s mercy to melt the snows?

Speaking of which, she was behind on her prayers to the divines. Sighing Ayera looked to the sky. Would the divines aid her, the one Chosen by the chief deity himself?

If only she had lavender or an amulet with her to pray. She probably should ask if there was a shrine to one of the divines nearby.

“Yes I remember,” Ayera answered, Erador now thoughtfully focused on a small piece of wood in his hands. He had been chipping away at it since they had stopped shoveling. Now she saw only parts of it covered by his hands, but remembered watching Erador shape it into a creature Ayera was not familiar with. It resembled a winged horse with the head a bird. Back in Whiterun he had made one of those in the second week, placed it on his nightstand  

Ayera never saw it again. Somehow, she knew it meant a lot to the altmer. Erador unfurled his hand around the object and finished work was revealed.

It was… beautiful, though not in the terms of craftsmanship. But he took the time to make it and that was enough for her.

“In College,” Erador started to explain while holding the piece up to the sunlight, the brown wood sparkling reddish, “We practiced Telekinesis carving statues like this. Our instructors made us carve one, only one.” Erador emphasized.

“Then we had to make sure that it did not break nor get any dents,” he huffed in amusement, ”I think they wanted to slap two lessons into one.”

“Two lessons?” Ayera inquired, gazing at Erador’s face now expressing a wistful look.

“Aye. If that statue had a scratch we’d get a lecture on resource management, and its care on top of our magical training.”

It sounded well thought out. A bit harsh, but it made sense and seemed to really work. Almost like Sven’s story about chopping wood, definitely some similarity.

“It sounds….”

“Weird?”

“No. It sounds like they cared?”

Erador, caught of guard, burst into raucous laughter. Ayera just blinked at him in confusion.

“Oh by Auriel, them and care?” He finally wheezed before regaining his composure, but the corners of his mouth still twitched in to a smile, “They cared in the sense that we represented the image of the Thalmor. Paragons of Altmer intelligence and prowess,” he grimaced when he imitated a voice of an old man the last sentence. She cocked an eyebrow at him. He grinned again. “We had to Be good. but their lessons were alright, I suppose,” he conceded before offering the figuring with an outstretched hand to Ayera, ”Here, I wasn’t sure if you could make one of those but I …” he stopped and had to swallow before opening his mouth again. Was he stammering?

“I thought it would be nice for you to continue with that tradition.” Ayera couldn't help beam warmly. It was gracious of him. But Ayera’s gut twisted uncomfortably in response: he was trying to approach her again after everything that happened. Even with Erador’s loyalty completely to her… it did not mean their relationship was the same. Not that it had shifted over the course of them clawing themselves through Skyrim. Though… it had to come and gone. There was no use dwelling on it now and she needed to move on.

“It is,” Ayera whispered softly, curling her fingers around the wood. They brushed against his for only a moment. Erador’s lingered on hers and but withdrew them. Ayera gently clutched the small figurine in closer to her eyes. She still did not recognize the creature. It was not a dragon or a bird either.

“What is this creature?” Ayera inquired, now looked to him for an answer.

“A gryphon,” Erador replied, visibly sheepish.

“They are native to the Isles. I forgot you wouldn't know about them… because…” He trailed off, the obvious left unsaid. The Summerset Isles were isolationist since …. Early history? Except for a brief moment in the second era and the wars. Rarely did the island nation open up to anyone.

“I see. I love it,” Ayera remarked warmly, putting the conversation back on track. This time Erador genuinely smiled and it almost rivaled the sun’s rays.

“Are you ready?” he asked, lifting his right hand where orange swirls were flitting through his fingers.

“Aye.”

* * *

 

Just as Ainethatch had predicted, the snow had melted a week later, leaving the paths in a half-solid and half-fluid state. But finally they could leave. Sven was no longer limping. To prove his point he began chopping logs for a whole day. They had all understood perfectly.Especially Bjorn and Fevuril. Those guys were more tightly knit than the Companions.

Ayera was slipping on her cloak when she was caught off guard with a question she had never anticipated. “

So you are half Altmer. But are you half Nord, half…?” Bjorn trailed off curiously, waiting for her confirmation. No one had asked her that before. Ayera’s mouth fell wide open in shock and Erador looked surprised more than anything else. He had recognized her being a Breton almost immediately, but how did neither of these three see that?

“I am half-Breton,” Ayera answered still stunned and Bjorn’s ears grew red at the tips. Embarrassed? Good. Because she felt embarrassed at his thoughtlessness too.

“How did you not notice?” Fevuril remarked dryly before slumping down on a bench close to the fire in the middle of the room. Bjorn’s ears grew completely red and now his cheeks were gaining a rosy tint too. Unfortunate, but Fevuril was right. How had he not seen it? Erador sat down next to Fevuril with an amused smirk and she rolled her eyes at him when he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“To be fair,” Sven interceded while setting several mugs of ale down on their table,” I would have pegged you for a half-Nord.”

Her mouth fell open as Bjorn shot Sven a relieved look and Erador burst out into a bellowing laughter. Fevuril just looked stunned and she just wanted to hide her face in her hands. Why? She would have thought that even with her being so obviously a half-breed, it would be obvious she was half Breton.

“Come on, sit down. It happens,” Sven snorted while Erador tugged her to sit down next to him and her knees jerkily bent so she could sit. They would need to still get a room, but right now a mug of ale was just the thing they all needed at the moment. Even if they had to sleep on the floor tonight.

Erador left to sort out the rooms after they had finished their ales and ordered food, when Fevuril turned around to her and asked.

“So…. How did you meet him?”

She blinked in surprise. Erador? Oh Sithis. What would she tell them? That he had kidnapped her and then… they somewhat became whatever they were right now? Swallowing heavily she glanced over to Erador who seemed to be talking to the innkeeper still, his hand on his purse.

Sven cleared his throat and she looked back to all three looking at her expectantly.

“So?” Bjorn asked, “A high elf sent by the Thalmor, how did you meet?”

Telling the truth would be the only option. Kind of. She could lie, but given how her biggest secret already was exposed, she couldn’t afford to keep track of more secrets at this point. If she did they’d stop believing anything she’d say, truth or not. Though… could she spin it more favourably for Erador?

“He actually saved me,” she said remembering their very first encounter, “I was ambushed on the road to Dawnstar and he came to my aid.”

“Who ambushed you?” Bjorn asked, cocking his head to the side revealing Erador still bartering with the inn keeper. She had not caught the name. But then again, they were going to be in Solitude in two days time. Barring any distractions.

“Stormcloaks,” she said briefly and saw how Fevuril shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“They knew who you were?” Fevuril questioned further.

“I do not know. I presume so,” she shrugged in response.

“You do not know?” Sven asked while setting his tankard down looking pensive.

“Well I couldn’t really ask when the arrows started flying,” she remarked and Bjorn chuckled.

“Then how did you know it was Stormcloaks?” Sven asked, sounding confused.

“Their uniforms?” she frowned at Sven. Surely that had been obvious? He mouthed an _oh_ before taking another sip of his ale.

“And Erador had been following you?” Fevuril asked now.

“Yes.” She answered causing Fevuril and Bjorn to exchange brief looks. What? They had accepted Erador back on that clearing. Would they seriously turn on him now? After everything?

“And you… just went with him?” Sven sounded skeptical and she couldn’t really blame him either.

“Remember he showed me the dragon scale? He showed me and…” she looked to the ceiling briefly. How could she even say it? “I didn’t want to run anymore.”

“Just like that?” Sven poked further.

“If you wanted a complicated reason, then I am sorry,” she snapped and Sven snapped his mouth shut.

“Is that why you also fled Whiterun?” Fevuril asked casually and she had to wince.

“Yes and no. Primarily it was to get away from Ulfric.”

“Unfortunately for you, he is winning,” Bjorn argued suddenly and she felt the hair on neck rise. What was he on about? Was he still angry at her? Even Fevuril and Sven shot him shocked glances.

“I meant that when you are done with the elves, how would you come back?” Bjorn clarified and she felt a stone drop from her chest. Oh good. Not that kind of sentiment then.

“The pass to Falkreath is usually not that patrolled,” she said slowly and had to cringe. Last time she crossed the border she got apprehended by Hadvar’s troops and nearly gotten her head chopped off.

“Huh, well we’ll see when the time comes,” Fevuril stated and looked back to Erador, ”I hope he is getting us food as well with how long he is taking.”

Oh. She looked over to Erador who was still talking to the inn keeper. But… something was annoying him. The pinched line of his mouth told her as much. What was going on?

“I will see what I can do,” she muttered before getting up and walking over to Erador who startled when she appeared at his side. The inn keeper only looked relieved when she materialized next to him.

“What is going on?” she asked Erador now and he sighed when he turned to look at her.

“We need help,” the innkeeper blurted out before Erador could even open his mouth. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Wait. They needed help? With what? Curiously she regarded the woman in front of her. Lines were drawn deeply around her mouth. Worry lines. Something was up. Right… just like the old days with Lydia. She could do this.

“What do you need help with?” she said and watched as the woman in front of her deflated visibly.  Erador made a choked sound and she elbowed him. They could still decline if it took too long.

“We have elected a representative to go to Jarl Elisif’s court…” she started and then a small Imperial man came to stand next to her. They both looked nervous. Ayera had to frown. What exactly was the problem here?

“The problem is, there have been undead sighted during the night,” he explained briefly.

She shot Erador a look and he looked back, startled. They hadn’t expected that. Undead? Walking freely around a settlement? Usually they couldn’t stay too far from their barrows.

“Is there a crypt nearby?” she asked and the two of them shook their head in unison.

“I am going to Solitude to request help and men to investigate the matter,” the Imperial said and she had to frown. So? How were they supposed to help him then? He could speak on his own?

“So… what are we to do?” Erador voiced her thoughts and the Imperial cringed away.

“We have little protection due to the war as it is and the guards need to stay here to protect us, but he needs protection to reach the Jarl,” the inn keeper explained crossing her arms in front of her chest.

That sounded… harmless. Though, undead? Was she talking about draugr?

“Have you seen the undead?” Ayera asked now, probing to see what kind of undead they were talking about. The innkeeper shifted uncomfortably, while the Imperial grimaced.

“ _We_ didn’t see them,” he looked to the side then looked her straight in the eyes, ”but during the night the guards say they can hear the grinding of bones. They killed one even. Once it was daylight it had been just a pile of bones.”

Skeletons? Huh, but no draugr. Did that mean this was the work of a necromancer? Though, that also meant that were many more. Necromancers rarely came alone. This was bad.

Oh why couldn’t she get a break for once?

“Right,” Erador sounded uneasy and then with a brief glance to the three at their table, he said, “we would be happy to accompany him to Solitude.”

The woman’s face lit up instantly and the man bowed at the waist slightly.

“We thank you, we do not have much, but I can give you two rooms for the night without charging you,” the woman said brightly and walked back behind the counter taking out a rag to wipe the surface.

Ayera could only stare at Erador who smiled down at her.

“It is just accompanying someone to the Jarl, we will be fine,” he muttered to her and she felt herself nodding. They should be fine. Really, skeletons were easy to counteract when the summoner was not around. Given her luck recently would she be that lucky at all anymore?  

“Shouldn’t we have asked the other first?” she jerked her head towards the others who were chatting about something.

“I think they will not mind us helping them,” Erador argued back quickly and steered her by the shoulders back to their table.

“What kept you so long?” Bjorn asked pushing two tankards towards them.

“We were asked to accompany a settlement representative to the Jarl,” she explained and Fevuril frowned at that.

“Why?” Fevuril asked, seeming curious. Bjorn sighed and Sven only quirked an eyebrow, as if they were not even surprised anymore by anything.

“There are undead going around the town, the man is petitioning for more protection and rooting out who is raising them,” Erador explained causing the other three to exchange worried looks.

“Like in Morthal?” Bjorn asked, his face serious now. She had to pinch her lips at the comment remembering what they had decided on back then. Maybe they had thought wrong and these were the same necromancers and the risen had strayed too far?

“Those were draugrs. What they killed were skeletons,” she corrected and Sven shifted uneasily on his bench.

“Doesn’t matter whether it was a draugr or a skeleton. Still means a necromancer is on the loose,” he growled and looked over to the man they’d be accompanying to Solitude.

“Well, the best we can do right now is to make sure that the representative makes it safely to Solitude to petition to the Jarl,” she argued and Bjorn seemed like he wanted to retort, but bit his tongue at the last moment.

Probably to argue that they should deal with the problem first hand. As much as she wanted to do that as well, they could at least make sure that the defense of Dragon Bridge was shored up enough that they could safely dispatch the necromancers without worrying about the town folks.

“Might be best if we do that,” Bjorn grumbled and then he leaned over the table slightly, “but shouldn’t we help to solve the problem?”

She opened her mouth, but Erador interceded.

“If we cannot catch the ship out of Solitude, then maybe.”

“You would just leave them to fend for themselves against a necromancer?” Bjorn accused astonished. Erador only rolled his eyes.

“Have you forgotten _who_ you are talking to?”

Bjorn flinched and Sven just sighed.

“We haven’t forgotten, but have you considered we are too late for any ships leaving from Solitude?” Sven asked now quietly, so no one heard them.

“Have you actually heard what I said? I said we will help if we can’t catch a ship out of Solitude before.”

“Well…” Sven sounded awkward before Bjorn cleared his throat. She had to hide a giggle behind the rim of her cup at how out of place those two suddenly looked.

“One step to help them is to escort their representative to the Jarl’s court,” Fevuril interceded on their behalf and she shot him a small smile.

“You think they can do much?” Sven asked suddenly, more serious now.

“What do you mean?” she had to ask. Surely a few more men to guard the town would deter most necromancers from touching it?

“The war,” Sven said more adamantly.

Oh. Ohhhh. Solitude would have to expend men that would have been needed to shore up its defenses. Right, a fair point.

“That is what the legion is for though,” Bjorn argued tapping on the table slightly with his index finger.

“Still, even with the legion, the guards are stretched thinly as it is. Stormcloaks make no distinction between hold guards and soldiers,” Erador elaborated further his hands closing around his cup while he stared contemplatively into his ale.

“First, we get him to the Jarl. See what they decide and then make our own plans,” she suggested firmly. Sven looked at her briefly before answering.

“Maybe you are right, but we also need to be extra vigilant on the way to Solitude. See if there are any anomalies.”

“What kind of anomalies would we be looking out for though?” Bjorn asked.

“Well...” Sven looked down sheepishly, ”I don’t know, but it is better than nothing.”

That was true. It was better than nothing, but if they had no clue what to look for then they could be going to Solitude blindly. Leaning back, she tried to think of all the encounters with necromancers she has had. There had been one near White River, but that had been one just starting and with the power of the standing stone. Hang on… the sound they made?

“Have you ever heard bone grinding on bone?” she asked causing Fevuril to splutter his drink making him cough violently until Erador slapped his back so he could breathe again. All the while the others just stared blankly at her. Confused.

“What?”

“Skeletons make this noise…” she waved her arms as if it would explain everything, “it sounds like someone is crunching bone against bone.”

“I mean… we did hear something weird in High Gate,” Bjorn said slowly and Sven’s face lit up in recognition.

“Oh, I see what you meant. I guess we could have a lookout for that.”

“More like have a hear out,” Erador snarked suddenly earning him murderous stares from them all.

Seriously? He was in a humorous mood?

Though, she had to admit, it was funny.  The corners of her mouth were twitching into laughter. Probably not a good idea, but by Sithis, for some reason she found this hilarious. Then it all burst out of her and she had to slap her hand on her mouth to be not too loud. Sven then lost it too, not bothering to keep his laughter muffled, his face growing red the longer they laughed. It took Bjorn a moment to join in, falling onto Sven’s side while holding his stomach.

Only Fevuril looked lost, poor him. If she could only catch her breath to explain, but by Auriel, her sides hurt far too much as she gasped for air.

“Guys? What is so funny?” Fevuril asked confused.

Erador sputtered at the question and his left hand landed on her right thigh, gripping it as he laid his head on the desk, his back shaking from laughter.

“Seriously, Fev?” Bjorn gasped.

“What?”

“It’s funny.”

“Oh.”

“Get it?”

Fevuril pinched his lips and took a deep drink from his ale. The tips of his ears grew purple. At least she could have sworn they turned purple.

They spent most of the evening laughing, eating and drinking. Until they fell into their respective beds, falling asleep immediately.

“Would it kill us to get up earlier?” she grumbled as they stumbled out of the inn at around noon the next day. Varnius Junius was waiting for them on the road already, all huddled in a woolen cloak with a walking staff in his right hand. The inn keeper came out behind them, a small satchel in her hands as she brushed past them towards Varnius.

“Alright, alright,” Erador had his hands up as if in surrender, “next time we will not drink as much ale.”

“Good,” she mumbled back as he pulled his hair back to tie it together. They had all overslept until late morning. Not the best first impression. She had to wince as Sven yawned loudly, not even bothering to cover his mouth.

“Are we ready to leave?” Varnius asked as they finally made their way over to him, shuffling in his boots.

“Aye,” Bjorn answered for them all and then they were off on the road to Solitude.

At least nothing out of the ordinary happened. Except… during the one night they had to spend on the road. She and Bjorn had been on watch. Sven and Erador had mumbled that they had heard the noise she had described occasionally. Towards the morning hours she could have sworn that they had gotten closer, until it completely vanished. They all were on edge as soon as the sun rose on the horizon and they could see where they were going or more importantly in this situation, what would be coming their way.

Solitude’s walls were a welcome sight towards afternoon, when they reached the top of a hill.

“Nearly there then,” she said out loud to no one in particular.

“How long do you think until we arrive?“ Erador asked next to her and she looked up to the sky where the sun was half way past the zenith.

“Uhm, before the hour is over definitely. Look, there are the farms!”

“Good, no more skeletons in the night,” Erador grumbled while re-adjusting  his backpack.

“We might have to deal with it though one way or another,” she countered quietly as they walked down the hill towards the first city gate.

He only sighed.

“Hopefully it is just a novice necromancer then,” he muttered darkly and she had to giggle. Hopefully yes. Easy to dispatch and sort out any mess they had made. Well, one could only hope. Erador seemed distant when he looked at the gates, lost in thought and somehow she knew that she had to let him be still. He’d come to her once he was ready.

_Was she ready_?

Was she not? It hurt to see him twitch as if to reach out to her, only to retreat his fingers after a moment. He thought she didn’t notice, but she did and somehow she wished she didn’t. Not that he completely stopped. No, during the night they would touch while murmuring to each other about nothing. Seeing him flinch away from touching her meant he was still fighting with himself and it was all her fault.

When they finally reached the first gate, Varnius pushed towards the front of their group.

“I need to announce us so we can be taken to the Jarl soon,” he explained quickly before they reached the guards standing on the side of the open gate.

“Halt, who goes?” one shouted as soon as they were close enough.

“Varnius Junius. Dragon Bridge calls for aid,” Varnius said smoothly while taking out a small piece of paper which was snatched out of his hand. The guard looked over whatever was written on it.

“Looks fine, go in to see Captain Aldis. He will get you an audience.”

“Thank you,” Varnius walked past the guard who was eyeing them curiously.

Specifically her.

“I know you,” he spoke suddenly pointing at her. Bjorn groaned quietly behind her and she could only shrug in response. She had only been in the city once. As the Thane of Whiterun on a tour with the Proventus.

“Ayera, Thane of Whiterun. We seek refuge from the Stormcloaks.”

“Dragonborn,” the guard whispered reverently and motioned to another guard to come over. Once the other was over, the one who recognised her waved them all through the gate.

“What is going on?” Fevuril muttered behind her and she wished she could answer. This was new.

“I have no bloody clue,” she hissed back to them and looked to her side where Erador was walking. He was frowning and when he felt her eyes on him, he turned his head to look at her.

“I guess you were expected?” he shrugged at her, but it seemed like he had no idea either.

She looked at the guard’s back who waved Varnius to follow them who now stared at her wide-eyed. It was awkward, the change in behavior once her status as Dragonborn was announced. Oh well, nothing could be done about it now. Hopefully she was not going to be asked to fight the war for them.

“I guess so? But if expected, they would expect something _from_ me,” she said as they marched towards the city gates proper.

“How often have you been here?” Sven asked.

“Once. On official business as a Thane of Whiterun.”

“I guess we will see what they want,” Bjorn concluded tiredly as they reached the gates which opened quickly for them.

As soon as they stepped through they closed with an ominous thud. It was just as she remembered. Crammed with bustling people of all races going about their day. Only it wasn’t the same. Tension was buzzing between people, as if a sword was hanging above their heads. The war was getting to them all. Did they all know that Ulfric only needed Morthal and Markarth before he marched on Solitude?

Had there been as many haggard people hanging around the market place as last time? It felt like there were more.

No, she was being an idiot. Of course there would be more. Those were refugees! Was there anyone she knew? Squinting her eyes while slowing down, she tried to discern anyone she might know. All unfamiliar faces and she couldn’t stop either to be completely sure. Erador’s hand was now on her shoulder to keep her moving. Had she slowed down too much?

They moved past the hectic market, past the tents pitched near the corner of the city walls hidden away in their shadows, up the steps towards the castle situated deep within the mountain face. Castle Dour from what she had remembered of her first and last official visit. No one could know about her role regarding Vittoria.

Captain Aldis met them in the castle’s courtyard, two guards flanking his side. Varnius was the first to be searched and taken away, back to the market towards the Blue Palace. Only then was she waved forward.

“Dragonborn,” Aldis greeted her formally with a fist over his heart, “good to see you alive and well.”

“Captain Aldis,” she returned his greeting in kind, right fist over her heart, “I am sorry to impose on you.”

“You are no imposition. Jarl Elisif has ordered to bring you to her should you return.”

“She wants to talk to me?”

Aldis shot her a sympathetic smile.

“I only know my orders and Eris and Lars will take you to her for an audience.”

The two guards silently bowed their heads and she had to acknowledge them in return.

“Now?”

“Aye. I need to return to overseeing the city.”

Aldis turned around and walked back into Castle Dour, leaving them with the two guards who motioned them all to move towards the Blue Palace.

“Is this normal?” Sven asked when they passed the Bards College.

“What do you mean?” she asked back, as they walked through the noble district, the streets filled with richly dressed men and women. No refugees, but the worry lines were still there. What would Ulfric do with them if he conquered the city? Execute them all? Probably was best if she didn’t think about it further. Ulfric won’t let her live either if he found her.

“That you are given special treatment because of your status?” She winced at the question. It was true. The Jarls would treat her not as a Thane of another Hold, but as a hero which was apparently warranted by her title. Right now, this was an unannounced and not on official business. Compared to the other times? Not special.

“This was tame compared to the other times,” she answered. Sven coughed in surprise, while Erador seemed rather unimpressed. Several noble women shot Sven scathing looks at his cough and he sheepishly smiled apologetically back.

“Tame? You are getting an audience with a Jarl immediately!” Sven exclaimed through gritted teeth, once the women had diverted their attention from them.

“Aye. Jarl Elisif will probably want something from us,” she shrugged. Erador nodded without making a comment. He was being quiet. Not something he usually was. So many things, so little time to do it all in. Erador would have to wait until later.

The courtyard to the Blue Palace was crammed, imperial soldiers, nobles and other petitioners flitting around. Their guards had to push away several people who refused to budge.

“Make way for the Dragonborn!” Lars yelled suddenly, ceasing all noise around them. Oh for… Why?! Was it necessary to announce her like that? All eyes were glued on her now, recognition flashing on every single face. Well nearly every face. Most soldiers seemed caught off guard, hanging halfway between moving and standing still as they made their way through the crowd to reach the doors.

As soon as the doors fell shut behind them, she could breathe again. For now she won’t be pestered for something except for the Jarl who wanted to speak to her. Viarnus stood at the bottom of the stairs, seemingly waiting for them.

“I requested to speak in your presence,” he informed them shortly when they were within earshot.

“Why?” Bjorn asked curiously. They stopped in front of the stairs. Normally a courtier would wave them up to walk to the Solitude throne.

“If she can report on the suspicious activity, then they are bound to take me more seriously,” Varnius reasoned and she could not really fault him for it. Her word for some reason had a lot of weight to it.

“I guess there is some good you are the Dragonborn then,” Sven joked quietly and she had to giggle at it. Some good indeed.

She glanced over to Erador. His face was closed, eyes front. Tonight, she would ask him if something was up. Until she followed his line of sight. He was looking at the Thalmor Justiciar in Solitude who was staring back. A shiver ran up her spine when the Justiciar’s eyes settled on her and practically bored into her. Then the eye contact was broken and Erador shifted closer to her.

“You can come up now,” a young woman called from the top of the stairs. Ayera couldn’t remember ever seeing her from her last official visit.

Elisif, Falk and the Thanes sitting on the benches next to the throne received them. She recognized Bryling and Erikur shooting the other cold stares. Nothing on that front changed at least.

They came to a stop at a respectable distance from Elisif who had stood up in greeting.

“Dragonborn, we are glad to hear of your arrival,” Elisif spoke calmly while taking her seat again.

“Jarl Elisif, we seek refuge from Ulfric and have brought a petition to you,” Ayera responded while clasping her hands in front of her.

“We heard of Whiterun’s fall and mourn Jarl Balgruuf’s death,” Elisif inclined her head slightly in respect. Ayera had to grind her teeth briefly. Balgruuf, Irileth, Idolaf, Proventus… the list was too long and they all should be mourned.

“We thank you for your thoughts,” she replied, hoping that this would move the audience along.

“You shall be granted asylum. There are quarters for you being prepared in an empty house as we speak,” Elisif leaned back on her throne regarding them all curiously.

“You have our utmost gratitude,” Ayera said while bowing slightly as was protocol if she remembered correctly.  

“I hope we can count on you aiding us to defend ourselves?” Elisif asked suddenly, her tone light as if she hadn’t just dropped a huge weight onto her shoulders. Ayera had to swallow at the implication. If she said no, she would be seen as a coward. Right now she had given her a question with only one correct choice. Clever. Since when had Elisif grown this cunning?

“I would lend my strength gladly,” she pressed forth, sensing Erador’s miniscule flinch. They could still flee, just not openly now. This evening couldn’t come faster enough. Hopefully no one had noticed.

“Last time you were here, we could not give you a gift. General Tullius has recovered your items from Helgen and has sent them to your new quarters.”

Her… belongings? From before Helgen? She looked to Erador who looked back just as shocked as her. Did this mean she would finally know who she was before all of this? Or at least have more of an idea? Was this an apology and a silent plea to help? Why all of this posturing?

“I…” she had to stop, the sentence suddenly jumbled in her head, “I cannot thank you enough.”

Elisif nodded back, a sign that their audience was ended and she could finally step back towards the others. A hand clasped her upper forearm, steadying her. Erador who looked at her with concern now. She could only smile shakily back at him mouthing “later”.

Varnius stepped forward, wringing his hands nervously as he made his petition.

“My Jarl, Dragon Bridge calls for your aid. Undead have been haunting the forest during the night and we call for your protection.”

A hush fell over the hall, shocked faces staring at the poor Imperial who was now the centre of attention.

“Undead?” Falk found his voice first while Elisif exchanged worried looks with her housecarl.

“The guards have killed walking skeletons and…” Varnius looked over to her before continuing, “the Dragonborn can confirm that on the journey here she found evidence of more undead activity.”

Once more eyes were on her.

“What he said is true. In my travels I have encountered many undead. They _were_ wandering around. Dragon Bridge needs more guards and men to dispatch them.”

Murmuring swelled up from the benches and from the courtiers around them.  Elisif exchanged concerned looks with her steward before leaning over to whisper with him, the murmurs swelling up in volume. Ayera looked back to Erador who was frowning now, but when he sensed her eyes on him, he squeezed her forearm reassuringly.

It took a while for the court to calm down when Falk cleared his throat loudly several times. Elisif spoke then, eyes intently fixed on Varnius.

“We thank you for bringing this to us. You will be compensated for your troubles and you shall be escorted back home,” she paused, “I will also dispatch some guards to scout out the situation, but be assured I will do everything in my power to make sure my people are safe.”

Varnius’ posture visibly relaxed.

“Thank you, my Jarl,” he said while bowing slightly.

“Rest for the night and tomorrow a cart shall bring you and additional guards to Dragon Bridge,” Elisif smiled benevolently at Varnius who was now approached by a guard. With an arm movement, Varnius walked back down the stairs. Elisif’s smile dropped and now Ayera could see the lines on her forehead that had not been there all those years ago.

“Dragonborn,” Elisif called and Ayera stepped forward again. Another request and this time it would be about these undead.

“I know we have asked much of you, but if there are undead I want you to accompany my scouts. Your… expertise should prove useful.”

Ayera nodded and then opened her mouth, “Of course. Who do we need to report to?”

“Captain Aldis will receive orders tonight. On the morrow you will most likely move out. Until then please rest,” she waved with her right hand, dismissing them. Ayera stepped back to the others who seemed rather unsure what to do.

“Bryling, please escort them to their new quarters.”

The woman to her immediate right stood up and bowed, “By your orders, my Jarl.”

To describe their new lodgings as “quarters” was just not accurate. It was the guest house for noble guests. The very one she had been in during her first visit.

“So…,” Bjorn turned on his heels looking around the spacious living room they had walked in, “we are living here?”

“Yes,” Bryling said curtly and opened a door leading to a kitchen, “I presume you remember this house?” she asked Ayera directly now.

“I remember,” she answered trying not to think about the times she, Proventus and Hrongar had sat there discussing details about the talks.

“You will find the sleeping quarters upstairs. Anything else please talk to the steward,” Bryling commented walking back to the door.

“Do you have any other questions?”

“Not right now,” Erador replied and Bryling nodded curtly before leaving.

Ayera released a huge breath as the door closed turning around to the others who awkwardly wandered around the room they were in.

“I can kind of see now why you wanted to avoid all of… _that_ ,” Bjorn commented, shifting on his feet unsure where to go.

“This was not as extravagant as an official visit,” she sighed unclasping her cloak, folding it in her arms.

“Oy Fev, is there any food in the kitchen?” Sven stuck his head through the door where Fevuril had just gone through. She had to chuckle. Food would be good.

“Ayera, Elisif said that there was a gift for you waiting here right?” Erador was next to her now, hand on her shoulder. Her belongings from before Helgen. Just why had it taken so long to return them to her?

“She did. I guess I should see what they recovered.”

“Do you think you will remember if you see them?” he asked, eyes searching her face. It was concern, earnest concern that touched her heart making it flutter. Whatever that awaited her, would probably spur on some memories. Though, she couldn’t be too sure.

“I don’t know,” she could only say in the end, shrugging. Erador sighed, his hand moving to her cheek.

“Do you want me to be there with you?” He muttered and she nodded slightly. His thumb stroked her cheek bone gently before they were interrupted.

“We have food!” Bjorn exclaimed joyfully, his two hands holding two mead bottles. Erador stepped away from her, leaving cold space between them and moved towards Bjorn grinning. She had to restrain herself from reaching out to him to keep him next to her.

“At least we do not have to get food ourselves,” he slipped past Bjorn into the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

“You hungry?” Bjorn asked her innocently with a crooked smile. She forced herself to smile back at him.

“I am starving,” at least her voice didn’t waver or betray how her stomach had dropped to her knees.

“I would hope so! They left a feast for us!” Bjorn was vibrating with excitement and she could feel it seeping into her skin, making the smile on her face less strained.

“Have they left a boar?” she joked now moving towards him.

“Ohhh, something better. They left chicken mushroom pies!” Bjorn sighed in content and she had to giggle.

Who would have thought Bjorn loved that kind of pie? This time she smiled truly now. At least someone was having a good time.

“Anything else with the pies?”

“They have snowberry jam as well,” he sniffed slightly, obviously not as excited about the sweet treat.

Her stomach grumbled at the mention though. Her one weakness… Better secure her fair share of it. Fair share meaning all of it.

“Also, Ayera,” Bjorn suddenly said, his cheerful demeanor gone now.

“Yes?” she said apprehensively. Her smile had dropped a bit with how serious he sounded.

“I know we got off on a bad foot,” he rubbed the back of his head with his left hand, both mead bottles in his right hand now.

Oh. Well he was not incorrect. They had gotten off on a bad foot from the very start. She shifted on her feet awkwardly, clutching the cloak in her hands a bit more tightly now.

“I know I didn’t make the best impression either,” she tried to jest, but had to cringe at how high pitched her voice was. Bjorn chuckled nervously at her quip, only to stop after a moment.

“Look, maybe it would be best if we tried again? Forget everything that happened and just start over?” he looked to the floor, obviously wanting to be anywhere but here.

But… warmth spread through her chest at his offer. He was offering her to start over, without the animosities. Only a fool would not take that chance.

“I would love to,” she stretched out her hand, the corners of her mouth rising on their own again. He seemed to hesitate briefly before clasping her hand firmly.

“Bjorn.”

“Ayera.”

Then they let go and exhaled. Loudly. Together.

This time she couldn’t restrain herself as laughter burst forth and she had to hold her stomach as she doubled over. Why this was so funny she couldn’t really pinpoint, but it was. Bjorn’s own laughter boomed over hers, the bottles clinking together when he put them on the small table on the wall next to them.

“Ehm, guys?” Fevuril’s confused question could be heard out of nowhere. She looked up to see him, Sven and Erador standing in the doorway looking curiously at her and Bjorn. Erador locked eyes with her raising an eyebrow in question. Slapping her hands over her mouth to prevent another burst of giggles definitely didn’t help to clarify anything at all.

“I see you two have finally made up?” Sven looked between the two of them looking for an answer.

Only Bjorn’s breathless erratic nodding solved the confusion.

“Oh good,” Fevuril clapped his hands together.

“Now you two done? We are all hungry.”

Breathing deeply through her nose, she straightened herself out, hanging her cloak on the nearby hook.

“I am done. No clue if he is,” she shrugged and Bjorn had to gasp for air.

“Save me one of the pies!”

It all descended into a messy dinner. Whoever would be cleaning up that table later deserved all the pity and empathy because there was no daedra who would make her touch the mess that was on it. Although, if her last visit was any indication, they would have to do it themselves in the end. Not now at least she thought as they settled for the night. Each had their own room for once as the others had found out.

General Tullius’ chest was in the bedroom that was designated for the visiting noble, tucked between the bed and the wardrobe. She would have almost missed it, if the imperial sigil hadn’t been embossed on the top of the lid. Her stomach dropped and her throat closed up when she recognized what it was.

Would she finally remember who she was before Helgen? Did she want to? She should want to and she did, but at the same time she didn’t. Absentmindedly she traced the silver imperial dragon. Funny. The dragon was the Empire’s symbol and she was the Dragonborn.

“Ayera?”

She turned around to see Erador leaning at the doorway. Was he waiting for her invite him in? Surely he knew he did not need to ask? Had they been set back so far?

“Yes?”

“Are you alright?” he asked, stepping forward, closing the door behind him. Good, her worries were a bit unfounded then.

The words to formulate an answer stuck in her throat though. She was alright, but then she was not.

“I guess?”

“Doesn’t sound too sure,” he argued now standing in front of her, eyes boring into hers. She sighed, looking to the floor now.

“I feel…”

“Anxious?” he supplied and she looked back up, sending him an appreciative smile.

“You could say I am.”

“You do not want to know where you come from?” he probed, grasping her forearms gently now.

“I do.”

“But?”

She paused. What was the reason why she was hesitating? Truthfully, she was afraid of what the contents meant moving forward. What if she didn’t like what she saw? Or if nothing pointed to anything? What was worse? She couldn’t say.

“What then? It is not like I can go back to the person I was before,” she finally said and Erador’s face softened.

“No you cannot, but it doesn’t mean you cannot acknowledge who you were before,” he reasoned, pulling her to him into an embrace. Her arms instinctively slung around his middle as her head settled against his throat.

“What if it is something I would hate?” she murmured and she felt his chin settling on top of her head.

“Then take comfort that you are no longer that person. If you want I can be here if you want me to be?”

He made it sound so easy, as if it was that easy. She lifted her head away to look him in the eyes. There was nothing insincere she could see.

“I want you with me for this,” she said and he leaned forward, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I am here. No matter what is inside, I will be there. Always,” his admission made her head feel lighter and she tilted her head up and he did the rest. Bridging the gap, pressing his lips to hers.

Her arms slung around his neck while his shifted to her waist pulling her closer. All she wanted was to be closer as she opened her mouth to his and all just drowned in the haze that enveloped her mind at that stage.

It was over far too quickly for her tastes, but they did have to breathe.

“Go on. I will be here,” he let go of her leaving her winded and off balance. She clasped her hands together, to prevent herself from grabbing him again.  Taking another breath, she turned around and placed her hands on the lid, opening it.

She didn’t know what she had expected.

There were clothes inside, dresses to be precise. Not of bad quality either, she touched the cloth, feeling the finely woven linens. It didn’t connect anything though. Nothing clicked everything into place. Erador had moved beside her, leaning over to see what was inside.

“Does anything seem familiar to you?” he asked and she shook her head immediately as she lifted one of the dresses up. It was made of grey linens, a plain form too, no elaborate embroidery. Only the quality of the cloth made it stand out.

“I guess I didn’t seem to favour elaborate dresses,” she commented, searching for pockets. Maybe something would be inside which would tell her more inside those.

A gurgle from Erador made her look over. What was wrong? Was there something horrifying inside? As quickly and neatly as possible, she set the dress down on the table and looked to Erador whose face was now pale and grasping at his throat.

“Erador?” she frantically asked, now grabbing his right arm.

“I am fine,” he choked out and she frowned at him.

“No you are not,” she deadpanned.

“I just need a moment,” he wheezed and gently pushed her towards the chest.

The offending object was laid out on another dress, it must have been packed between two dresses to protect it. It was a headdress. Could it be described as a tiara? How was Erador so… winded by it? Worriedly she looked back and Erador waved her off, no longer wheezing at least. Shock. It was shock. But what was it to be shocked about?

She looked back and touched the head dress. It was a thin band of silver with tiny blue jewels sprinkled across it in loops and twists with bands of cloth tied to the end of the silver band. Nothing in comparison to the riches the nobility here boasted, but… it tugged at something at the back of her mind. Something… a memory.

She remembered!

It was her mother’s! Her mother… it all blurred around her as she remembered the woman who had turned up in one of her dreams. It had been on her head then! All the time.

Why was it with her though? What happened with her mother?

Something from her mother, her head swam and she could feel herself swaying until arms around her shoulder steadied her.

“Ayera?” he sounded worried, a slight pat on her cheek returned cleared the haze she was in.

“I… remember,” she whispered and the arm around her tightened.

“What do you remember?” his voice was strained and it sounded sad. Why though?

“It is my mother’s!” she choked out, tears pressing against her eyes and she did not bother wiping them away as they freely flowed down her cheeks.

Erador looked surprised, his arm loosened and she had swayed from the sudden loss in stability.

“What?”

“It is my mother’s. She always had it, all those years I was a child. It would always be on her head.”

That was… until she died. Of old age.

“Your mother?” Erador sounded urgent, pleading almost.

“Yes, she gave it to me before she died.”

He frowned now.

“She died?”

“Old age,” she sighed sadly and then wiped at her eyes. Not that it stopped the stream of tears. Her poor mother. What would she say if she saw her now? How could she forget her own mother?!

“How old was she when she got you?” he asked now. His face had regained some colour at least she noticed. He looked hopeful now.

How old was her mother when she died? She remembered her mother as a young and pretty woman. But she also remembered her aging and becoming grey and brittle while she herself aged so slowly compared to the children around her.

“I do not know. But she was young,” she answered and he lowered his head for a moment.

“Ayera, do you know what this tiara means? What this all means?” he asked urgently now.

“No?”

“These are engagement bands. High nobility on Summerset Isles make these for their betrotheds. Who was your father?”

“I don’t know! He is not in my memories, not in any I can remember,” she replied and he deflated.

“Half-altmer, half Breton… I thought you were going to marry someone else,” Erador was muttering now.

Her and marry? She was… she could not even speak. That was what he was worried about? Her being married? She wanted to hug him now, tell him that she’d rather be with him than anyone she did not remember. If that had been the case, which it was not. But it didn’t change the feelings.

“Erador,” she said and he stopped to look at her.

“I am not marrying some stranger anytime soon,” she smiled broadly at him and his face split into a beaming smile which she wanted to remember forever.

“You do not know how glad I am,” he said while putting a hand over his heart. Somehow she had a feeling that she knew deep down how glad he was and it made her want to dance and sing in joy. It meant they were not back to what they once were, only… needed to sort out what they were now. And it was something she would rather have them be than anything else.

Unless it was better. But she would not complain if this was all she would get in this lifetime.

The rest of the trunk was just clothes, all plain but the cloth was finely woven with good linen, the boots of good leather. It didn’t stir anything .

She had her mother back though and she would cling to it if it is all she would get back. Late into the night, when Erador and she had curled into each other onto her bed, she looked to the ceiling while Erador snored softly next to her and conjured imaged of her mother up from her mind. It was easy now and she would not trade anything for the world for these memories. They were hers again. She turned her head, her nose close to Erador’s.

Maybe she could make such memories with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So please let me know what you thought and I am writing on the next chapter cause I got hit with an idea while having coffee, so the rough skeleton of the plots is done and over. The only thing I need to do is clean up the smaller plot lines and write the damn thing.... Sigh. 
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this update!


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